


Bonds

by tiredofthisbs



Series: Twists of fate [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abandonment, Aftermath of Violence, Altean Keith (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And it's adorable, Betrayal, Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Childhood Trauma, Comfort...?, Crossdressing, F/F, F/M, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gay Disaster Shiro (Voltron), Graphic Description, Honestly some heavy stuff think about this before you read, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt Shiro (Voltron), I don't know what I'm doing, Keith (Voltron) in Denial, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) was Raised by the Blade of Marmora, Keith (Voltron)-centric, Keith is a damsel in distress, Keith is the little spoon, Lotor is a knight in shining armor, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Mind Bonds, Nightmares, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, POV Keith (Voltron), Past Rape/Non-con, Pillow Fights, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Shiro (Voltron), Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Sharing a Bed, Shiro (Voltron) is a Dork, Shopping, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Space Coffee, Spooning, Supportive Shiro (Voltron), The Arena (Voltron), These tags are not in order, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Torture, Violence, Wow what a surprise, also: teddy bears!, as a disguise, heavy shit, it's anime backstory time, maybe? - Freeform, please help, there's only one bed, these 2 are adorable, these 2 are being fluffier than my cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-05-18 08:10:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 25
Words: 50,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19330558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiredofthisbs/pseuds/tiredofthisbs
Summary: Keith is in deep trouble. Captured by the galra, beaten down and violated, Keith is sent to the Arena. Maybe he will meet someone there who will change this bullshit to the better. Maybe not.The human who has appeared while he was gone doesn't seem like the answer... yet there's something about him that grabs Keith's attention.





	1. At this moment Keith knew, he fucked up

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, my first fanfic I actually decide to post... about a dead fandom, pretty much. 
> 
> Wish me luck. 
> 
> Also, this is going to be a long one. I've written it pretty far ahead, yet... we're at like maybe a third. 
> 
> I may die, who knows. But if I don't, I will project my frustration by murdering everyone here brutally :)

Keith grunts as a gunshot graces his shoulder right were the old trial scar is. The shoulder sends electric shots of pain through his torso and he grits his teeth together. Now is not the time to worry about that though, seeing as Keith is preoccupied with something a lot more… urgent.

He crouches behind a fallen crate, using it as cover. The sentries are no match against him, but the officers and foot soldiers actually have a chance, even when he’d taken out at least half of them. 

Blood coats his clothes like an extra layer of fabric, sticking and dyeing the Blade suit. Keith’s suit is still not unrecognizable though, which probably will cause him problems later. 

This mission had taken a wrong turn too many strikes and gunshots ago. There is no way he’ll get off this ship unnoticed. 

He closes his eyes and flattens his ears, drowning out the gunfire. Which noticeably less than what it started as. He tries to picture out the blueprint of the ship, forming himself a possible exit route, but his thoughts are interrupted by his mother, whose muted purple line of thought shows it to him. Keith pushes his mom aside, trying to focus. 

He is stuck in the hangar, among ships he could pilot with his eyes closed and a route ready back to a safe spot and then three more.

But he has no way out of this damned ship. The galra had been smart enough to lock down the hangars, stopping him from exiting. Ulaz’s hacking programs weren’t enough to hack open the doors, not when the galra had applied their emergency shut down. 

Keith could remember Kolivan’s instructions clear as day. If you get stuck just wait it out in a vent and move out when you can. 

Well, there are a few problems here. For one, Keith is bleeding and heavily. If he’d crawl into the vents he’d probably bleed out of them and make his situation worse. Secondly, if Keith tries to make it to the vents he’ll be shot. Multiple times. 

Krolia chuckles at his internal monologue, yet fails to keep her tone calm. 

They both know how fucked Keith is, no matter how they try to avoid it. Keith sends a warm thought to her, which he doesn’t wait to be returned.

Keith sighs and lets the world back in around him, letting the sounds of the galra and their damned army back into his head. His chance of survival is slim. Too slim. 

He’d at least take a few more of these bastards with him. 

He jumps out from behind his cover, holding tight to his blade knife, now formed into a sword. On his left hand he has a sword he’d stolen from one of the guards. 

The few sentries left were easy for him to dispatch. He dodges their wayward shots and slices them apart with his knife. A few of the foot soldiers try to grab him and Keith realizes they aren’t trying to kill him anymore. 

They have decided that his fate shall be worse than death. Mere execution will not be enough for him. Keith suddenly remembers that document of galra torture Kolivan made him watch. All of the gruesome methods actually manage strike fear into him, as he barrels over a foot soldier who shouts in surprise as Keith snaps their neck.

He just prayed he didn’t look too much like his mom so no connection would be made. His hope is fragile, though, seeing as he is her spitting image.

He dodges one of the soldiers’ blades and makes a cut on their hand, making the galra drop his sword. It clinks to the ground as Keith slides under another soldier swiping for him. He kicks the man in the back, sending him across the room. 

The amount of enemies is, oddly, starting to lessen, but Keith knows more are coming. Too many for him, he guesses. He’d be overwhelmed eventually. 

He sweeps the legs of one of the officers out from under him and throws the other on top, making the two roll away, out of his line of sight. 

Keith pants, out of breath. He slowly goes over the death count in his head, turning his gaze for any new attackers.

He had killed only three officers as far as he could remember. Over fifty foot soldiers, for sure. Maybe a general. Sentries aren’t deaths, so Keith doesn’t bother to mull them over. If he did, he’d lost count long ago.

Keith prepares for an another attack wave, but none come. The hangar is quiet, he realizes. Bodies of foot soldiers and sentries are scattered all over the floor. Keith can spot an officer uniform a bit further away, half buried under the corpse of a foot soldier. Keith’s senses are dull and muddled, exhaustion weighing his bones, yet the strong stench of blood pushes through. It makes Keith want to puke. His head spins and he leans against a ship.

But the disappearance of enemies is concerning. It is not the galra style to give up. There should be more enemies to fight instead of less. 

Keith stops when he hears the beep. It is silent, but Keith’s ears twitch to the direction of it.

With one last glance at the door, which is still tightly closed, he goes to investigate. 

Keith searches blindly for the noise. It repeats every three seconds or so, the sound muddled, likely from being in someone’s pocket or under a corpse. Could be a bomb. 

Finally Keith stands next to the sound, as it beeps again. 

It is one of the officers, the woman laying on the ground face down. Keith isn’t excited about the idea of searching through a dead corpse, but he has to, if he wants to know what the beeping sound is. 

Keith crouches down, his vision blurring and darkening as he does so. He closes his eyes and feels around for the woman’s pocket. His fingers brush over a hard surface and he fishes it out, fighting against the need to puke. 

It doesn’t look familiar at all. The thing is cylinder-shaped, fitting comfortably into Keith’s hand. It’s small enough to be hidden in a bigger officer’s pocket, which the woman happens to be. There’s a small, red timer at the side, showing digital numbers. It takes Keith a while to focus into the numbers, everything blurring in his eyes. 

The timer is at twenty seconds. 

Keith drops the device and it hits the head of the officer, making a sickening crunch. With numb shaking movements Keith hurries as far as he can in the small hangar, stumbling over bodies and almost slipping in blood. 

He finally takes cover between a fighter and the wall. He sits down, hugging his knees, still resisting the need to throw up. 

Keith stares at the floor, as the last five beeps beep even louder than before. 

It doesn’t end in a bang, no. Instead there’s a small hiss, as if something opened. Keith, out of curiosity, looks out from behind the ship. 

Thick, green smoke has started to spread around the room. Keith starts panicking, not wanting to know how deadly the smoke is. He looks around once more and spots a touch pad against the wall. 

Keith waddles over, his wounds finally really starting to affect him. Keith has some difficulty with the pad and trying to see where it is, but when he finally does his hope shatters. 

The pad has been shot through, a dead foot soldier laying against it. 

Keith glances back to find the green smoke approaching, slowly but surely. With weak hands he turns to the door, trying to pry it open. 

It is tight. Too tight. Keith presses his hands to his mouth, trying to keep from breathing the smoke, but it breaks in through his fingers, filling up his nose and mouth. It tastes like smoke, bitter and makes Keith cough. He has to bend over, coughing for air. 

Keith’s legs give out and he slides down against the door, his vision darkening. 

Even the darkness he is thrown into cannot stop the pain. Krolia tries to reach out to him, like a hand coming from above, but Keith doesn’t have the power to reach up. 

All light blinks out, like a broken lamp.


	2. Does everything smell like death or is it just me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright so, this is just torture. Just. Torture. Beware.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was I supposed to wait until I post the next chapter? Yes.   
> Did I lose my patience and post the next one just a few hours later? Also yes.   
> Do I want Keith to suffer? No.   
> Will I do it anyway? Yes.

When Keith wakes up, he is tied to a wall, his hands high above his face. He can feel heavy chains on his ankles and wrists, making a sound when he moves. Someone has changed him out of his blade uniform and into a typical galra prisoner outfit. 

His blade is gone, but that doesn’t surprise Keith.

The cell is dark but quite sizable. If he could move, he would enjoy the size, but as he currently can’t, he is forced to stay against the wall, opposite from the door. 

He can hear guards walk by, but he is in too much of a haze to start counting the routine. The green smoke had been packed with much more drugs then what the blades like to use, making Keith groggy. He can reside in the knowledge, that he most likely has resisted the drug better than other galra, due to Kolivan forcing him to create an immunity for a lot of them.

The cell door creaks open to reveal a hooded form behind it. Keith shivers at the sight of a druid. 

”You’re awake surprisingly soon”, the druid says, emotionless.

Keith stays quiet as the druid steps into the cell. 

”You fought well, blade. Haggar wanted to take care of this personally, but she will arrive tomorrow. In the meantime, we should get to know each other better”, the druid says, still monotone. 

”You will get no information out of me”, Keith hisses. 

”He speaks!” the druid exclaims, sounding a bit more alive. Then, he adds more seriously: ”We’ll see about that.” 

The druid pulls back slightly, forming a sparkle of electricity in his hand. 

”Now, let’s play a little game. I ask a question and you can decide whether or not you want the electricity or give me the answer”, the druid explains, leaning toward Keith’s face. 

He gathers all of the saliva he can muster and spits at the druid, hitting the middle of his mask. The druid scoffs and wipes it off with the palm of his hand, sending the ball of electricity at Keith. 

It feels like being taken apart one by one, the electricity going into his organs and spreading out, ending up dancing on his skin. He manages to keep quiet, but trashes his head back. 

”Who is the leader of The Blade of Marmora?” the druid asks, forming an another ball of electricity. 

Keith stays quiet, glaring up at the druid. 

”I will ask again; who is the leader?” the druid hisses, moving his hand so the electricity is closer to Keith. He can feel it tingle on his skin. 

”Fuck you”, Keith hisses.

This time Keith can’t keep quiet, as the electricity moves through his body. He lets out a scream and it echoes in the room. The druid waits for the spell to pass patiently. Keith knows that the bastard enjoys this, but he will not give information if he has the choice. 

”Alright, how about we try an another one. Where is the base of operation”, the druid spit out. ”Where does the Blade of Marmora operate from?”. 

Keith is still trying to recover his vocal chords from the previous screaming, so he only manages to croak out something unintelligible. 

”What was that?” the druid asks, leaning closer again. Keith catches a smell, a very disturbing smell. 

It’s like something rotten. The druid smells like they’d rolled around in dead corpses and bathed in mud. 

Keith jumps forward, biting the druid’s hand. 

He screams and scrambles back, sending the ball of electricity at Keith. It scatters into his body, not quite charged up, but the feeling is not pleasant. Keith glares at the druid from behind his bangs, watching as he tries to stop the bleeding. 

”Quiznacking half-breed, you bit me”, the druid grunts, holding the wound with his hand. Keith offers him a fanged-smirk, almost laughing at the childish response. 

The druid walks to the door, where someone has brought a cart holding all sorts of suspicious items during Keith’s screaming.

”I suppose you won’t be answering my questions then?” the druid hisses, picking up something Keith is unable to see in the darkness. The only light source is dim purple, and somewhere above Keith like a spotlight. 

The druid comes closer and Keith can finally make out what the druid is holding. 

”You can either answer my question or this goes on, understood?” the druid hisses, moving his hand closer for Keith to see better. 

It’s a fucking muzzle. Keith hasn’t seen many of them, due to Kolivan absolutely despising them. It’s made of old, rusted metal, with nothing to soften the edges. Keith can already see how it will leave a nasty scar. 

”I will never tell you anything”, Keith huffs anyway, not about to be fret away by a muzzle out of all things possible. 

The druid shrugs, as if expecting the response, before stepping a little bit too eagerly closer. Keith tries to move and bite him again, but notices that he is unable to, locked in place by something. 

The druid hums as he ties the muzzle to Keith’s face. Keith glares at him the whole time, even when the top of the muzzle starts carving a mark across the bridge of his nose. It stings noticeably and Keith is unable to open his mouth even the tiniest bit, yet he keeps his glare.

”Only if looks could kill…”, the druid muses as he steps back, the spell on Keith’s body disappearing. ”Now, if you need anything… well, don’t worry you won’t get anything”, the druid chuckles as he walks back to his cart. ”Now, meanwhile we wait for high priestess Haggar, I might as well do some mapping”, the druid says, digging around the cart. 

Keith doesn’t know what mapping means, but it for sure was nothing good. 

The druid returns with a notepad. Keith eyes him suspiciously as the druid eyes him back through the mask. 

”No need to be so hateful. Save your energy for shouting… oh wait. Nevermind then”, the druid says, the grin clear in his voice. It makes Keith sick. 

He steps closer and presses his long, cold fingers against Keith’s palm. It sends delicate shots of electricity through Keith’s bloodstream, all the way to his heart and then out through his back, into the wall behind him. 

Keith wants to scream, but the muzzle keeps him to only groaning and shaking from the sensation. He tries to shake it away and twists his limbs to the best of his ability, but the feeling fades away agonizingly slow. 

”Seems like we will be having fun even with that muzzle”, the druid says, sounding satisfied, as he presses his fingers on Keith’s other palm. 

-

Keith loses track of the hours passing as the druid ’maps’ him. He seems to be using some sort of system to press the most delicate parts of Keith’s body, ranging from his toes to the tips of his fingers. Every time the shock goes from the point of entry through his body to his heart and then out from his spine. 

Keith has bitten into his cheek over and over again. He can taste the blood in his mouth, unable to spit it out. The muzzle is not helping. It is driving into the bridge of his nose and Keith can smell the blood of the wound. It will definitely leave a mark. 

Keith tries to send a message to Krolia but she seems… far away. Much more focused on something else. It is like a stab to Keith’s heart, yet he doesn’t have the energy to be sad or angry about it. Instead Keith hangs his head down, strands of black hair covering his eyes.

The door creaks open to reveal an another hooded figure, alerting Keith and pulling him out of deep thoughts. Keith flattens his ears and the druid stops tapping his pad, almost dropping it in surprise. 

”High priestess!” he squeals, striding to her. 

Haggar, Keith realizes in horror. 

”You’re here early! I just finished mapping him but his code is being sent to headquarters-”, the druid starts explaining, like a child to their mother, but Haggar silences him with a raise of her finger. 

”Thank you, Macidus. You can go now, I will take over”, Haggar croaks, sending shivers through Keith. 

The druid bows and hurries away with his pad, leaving Keith alone with Haggar. Suddenly Keith much rathers Macidus’ psychotic company then Haggar's pressing… silence. Where Macidus smelled like death, Haggar is like the grim reaper themself. She has an aura, darkening the room around her. She doesn’t wear a mask like the other druids, instead covering her face with the hood of her long cloak, which Keith recognizes to be a traditional galran burial gown. 

The witch works in silence and Keith is tired of glaring. Instead he only follows her movements with his eyes, as she nibbles on the equipment, clearly more experienced and purposeful then Macidus.

”I must admit I was impressed by your fight. You slaughtered the entire ship – it was a miracle that one of the officers was carrying that drug-infused smoke bomb”, Haggar says, stepping in front of Keith. 

He is thrown off. Somewhere in the back of his mind Keith knew, sure, he just… didn’t accept it. He is just a lone blade, while the whole ship was filled with galra personnel. Surely some of them...

”Alright, you caught me. Two officers survived, but I can tell you that their trauma will be a worse sentence then death”, Haggar adds, her smile visible from the shadows of her hood. 

Keith’s eyes widen in horror of what he’d done, but Haggar has no intentions of stopping. 

”So, of course, I took it to myself to investigate your bloodline and it seems like your mother is enlisted as an empire soldier as well. Now, I hate to assume, but she is working for that little organization of yours as well, isn’t she?” Haggar trails off, sending Keith into an another horror scene in his head. ”Now, I’m going to give you a choice. You can do as I say or you can watch as your mother is killed for treason in front of your eyes. Pick”, Haggar says.

Keith is horrified now. He has messed up and bad. It is his fault that Krolia’s mission is in danger.

”Ah, maybe you’d rather give me a verbal answer?” Haggar asks and moves to pull off Keith’s muzzle. She doesn’t have to use a spell, for he knew what stupidity it would be to try and bite her. 

Keith takes a few ragged breaths and stretches his jaw, groaning in pain. The ache across the bridge of his nose stays as a constant reminder, but Keith doesn’t mind it now, when he has some much bigger problems to worry about. 

”So, what’s the answer? Shall mommy dearest die or will you comply to my requests?” Haggar askes, stretching out the words and using her voice in a way that makes Keith’s fur stand on edge. 

”I- I can’t let my mom suffer for my mistakes”, Keith finally whispers, eyes pointed towards the ground, unseeing. The dim lighting didn’t make his eyes shine, instead it darkened them, hiding the yellow and purple, threatening to many but plain for a witch like Haggar. 

”How heroic. Of course, I cannot allow a spy to thrive in our ranks”, Haggar starts, making Keith raise his head in sudden fear of betrayal. ”I shall give her a warning to pack up and scurry to whatever pit she came from before I take action”, Haggar continues, satisfied with Keith’s reaction. 

Keith slouches back, uncertain of the future. What will the galra sentence him to? Slavery? 

”Alright, my request now is that you answer a few simple questions, Keith”, Haggar says surprisingly soft, making Keith twitch.

How does she know his name?

”What is your other half?” she asks, tapping a glass bottle with her finger, making it cling. Keith pulls his ears back at the noise. 

He makes no move to answer. 

Haggar sighs: ”Must you really make this so difficult? I should remind you that your mother is only a day’s trip to fetch.”

”Human”, Keith whispers, his throat sore. 

”Hmm?” 

”I’m half human”, Keith says through gritted teeth. 

”Human. Interesting”, Haggar says, writing something up in a piece of paper. The pen lets out a weird noise, like a scratch, making Keith draw his ears in even further. ”A very backwater planet and civilization. But in the light of the previous events, maybe I should get my hands on a few test subjects.” 

Keith gulps, praying that whatever humans Haggar decides to play with would forgive him.

“Now, to continue”, Haggar said, sounding too satisfied to mean any good. 

Keith looks at her, eyes wide, fearing for his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes.   
> Also Mama Krolia, don't ignore your son, you never know when the last time you speak to him will be, even if only through a suspicious mind connection I pulled out of my butt.


	3. She poisoned me...? Bitch.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh I wanted to warn you about some implied sexual non-con. I won't do anything graphic, just end it on a bit of a low note. If that's something you're sensitive about, but klicked this fic for some reason, just... be careful, ok?

Every part in Keith’s body aches in one way or another. Haggar had poked around his body for god knows how long, muttering to herself and occasionally scribbling in her book. Luckily the druid had ’mapped’ Keith, so Haggar took less time. 

He rubs his wrists, now sitting down. He is still in the same room, but Haggar has left, setting his wrists free for some reason.

Keith finally manages to reach out to his mom, and this time she’s there, curiously calling back. Keith tries to convince her that he’s alright, but Krolia doesn’t miss the waves of tiredness and hurt Keith is unable to mask. 

“What did -- want? Why did -- send me -- to --?” Krolia asks, but the connection distorts her voice, making it difficult for Keith to fill in the blanks or even understand what she’s saying in the first place.  
“Just do what she says”, Keith tells her, hoping that he’s able to convey it enough. 

Krolia sends him back feelings of concern, but doesn’t press it further. Keith sends him something the two have made up themselves, like an inter-minded smiley face. Krolia sends it back, even if it’s restrained. 

Keith is pulled out of his thoughts when someone slides him a tray of food through a small hatch at the bottom of the door. It is some kind of soup, brown colored and smelly. Keith can definitely taste something very wrong about it, but it is food and he needs it to survive, even if he may not make it out of this place. Or perhaps the odd taste is just poison. Maybe Haggar decided she was done with him. He downs it anyway, grimacing at the disgusting aftertaste.

Besides, he doesn’t want to know what happens if he doesn’t eat it. Keith certainly doesn’t want to starve, or worse, have the food forced down his throat by a guard. 

There is a small water pouch. The pouch is soft on all edges, but the cold water made it a very convenient cold bag. Keith uses it to ease some of the pain around his body. The most aching part is the lower point of his spine, where the electric currents had gone out from. Keith tries to feel around for any scars, but only finds fabric. 

With a sigh he presses it against the sore spot, the cold easing the burn. Keith lays over it, casually chatting with Krolia, trying to make the situation less concerning. Krolia is not having it though, trying to get Keith to help her with a rescue operation. 

“Mom, accept it. Kolivan won’t authorize it”, Keith tries, unsure of how much Krolia hears of it. Krolia sends back frustrated waves of emotion and Keith suddenly has a vivid image of her, tapping the ground with one leg out of frustration. He has to chuckle out loud, even when his voice is barely audible. 

“I will -- you -- myself”, Krolia answers. 

Keith sends her a very clear no, silencing her. “Don’t”, Keith sends back, making it very clear his mother should focus on getting back to base safely. “We’ve already angered Kolivan by compromising our missions. If he doesn’t authorize my rescue, you won’t do anything, okay?” Keith begs. 

The answer he gets back is hesitant but it calms his worry. Keith slips into sleep, surrounded by comforting thoughts, sent from his mom. 

-

Keith wakes to the feeling of wrong. Everything feels wrong, distorted, like in a bad dream, except this is not a dream, but harsh, cold, reality. The shadows of the room look like they’re dancing in Keith’s vision. He reaches out his hand… which isn’t purple like usual, but almost white. Keith is scared by the vision and blinks vividly, his hand regaining color and the shadows pulling back.

Someone opens the door and walks in, but Keith can’t see who, his vision clouded. He is dragged across the room, away from the safety of his corner and into the spotlight, where he finally recognizes the figure leaning over him.

Haggar studies him with careful eyes. She forces his eyelids wide open and points a light at him, making tears swell at the corners of Keith’s eyes. He blinks them away when she lets go. The next thing she does is force his mouth open. Keith, unprepared, doesn’t resist. She puts something into his mouth and drags it across the inside of his cheek with a swift movement. The procedure is over quickly, but it leaves a sour taste into Keith’s mouth. 

The haze and distortion is starting to fade now, revealing details of the room around him. Keith starts to hear and smell again, the smell of death finding its way back into his smell receptors. Keith almost pukes again and has to shut his eyes briefly, before forcing them open and swallowing back the puke. 

Great, now everything smells like death and tastes like puke.

Everything is the same around him, except the fact that the door is open, revealing a slither of a lit hallway behind it. 

The door is open, Keith finally realizes, his thoughts still running a bit slow. 

He glances up at Haggar, who is hovering over her trolley, muttering to herself, focusing hard on some kind of document on her data pad. 

Keith takes the chance and scrambles for the door. His feet feel sticky and his balance is way off, so he almost falls on his face while trying to get up. 

Keith makes it maybe three steps before he feels his whole body stop functioning and freeze, until he topples to the floor, hitting his jaw on the hard surface. 

”What a petty attempt. Still, little rats must be punished accordingly,” Haggar says, walking over to Keith. 

He whimpers when Haggar plants her foot on the back of his head. 

”The guards have been begging for a new toy for a while… I suppose you’ll do for one session before I can find an actual slut for them,” Haggar sighs, driving her foot down a bit harder, making Keith grunt in pain. ”Macidus!” Haggar yells and the druid appears on command, cracking open the door. 

”Yes high-priestess?” he asks, sliding open the door. 

”Our little half-breed here tried something very daring, as you can see. Take him to the guards. They are on break, yes?” Haggar asks, taking her foot off Keith’s head. He doesn’t dare to raise it. 

”Yes they are indeed. Shall I take him right now?” Macidus asks and Keith can hear his smile. 

”Yes. Give them… two hours. They can do whatever they want, but he needs to be alive after,” Haggar says, motioning with her arm for Macidus to take Keith away. 

”Yes, ma’am,” Macidus says, grabbing Keith by the back of his prisoner garb. 

Keith lets out a small gasp of air, as the collar of the shirt chokes him, but Macidus’ hold is firm.

He is dragged through hallways and two flights of stairs, and no matter how much he tries to get up and walk, Macidus keeps him like this, carrying him around by the back of his shirt. They gather funny looks from any passerby, some even laughing at Keith’s hopeless stage. Keith just glares back, pretty much unable to do anything but let himself be dragged. 

When they arrive in front of what Keith suspects is the guard break room, Macidus slaps something on Keith’s neck. It feels like a collar, made out of a sturdy material. 

”Be a good toy for them and you might be rewarded later,” Macidus hisses as the door swooshes open, revealing about twenty guards behind it, enjoying their break by playing cards or eating a snack. They perk up when they catch sight of Macidus and Keith, who is being dragged by his collar now instead of his shirt. 

”Haggar has rewarded you with a toy, but please do not break this one. She will need it later. You have two hours,” Macidus orders, dropping Keith. 

The guards cheer, getting up from their chairs. Macidus hurries away, leaving Keith, who is not dumb. He knows what’s about to happen and a sense of finality fills him. 

Before he’s grabbed he shuts his mom out completely, building thick walls between them. She is confused, but if Keith is able to do something about this, he’ll keep his mom out of it.

-

He doesn’t remember washing himself nor being thrown back into his cell with new clothes. He just sits there, unseeing. His corner is even safer now, away from any others. When someone slides him food and whistles loudly Keith makes no move to take it, fully knowing that the guard was one of them. 

He pulls his knees up and close to his chest, leaning his forehead on them, closing in. He had imagined something like this happening. No he’d known something like this would happen. He’d met enough prisoners to know. 

Yet here he is, shaking, after hours and hours. He is unable to sleep, unable to cry, unable to eat. Everything hurts and his hair is messy from not being cared of after showering. His breaths are uneven, the pace picking up whenever the memories pop up. 

He has never felt this dirty. No matter how long he spent scrubbing himself in the shower, he still feels sticky, covered in different substances better left unnamed. He can still feel the phantom substance sticking to his hair and skin. He can feel it dribbling down his legs, his body. 

Keith buries his head deeper between his knees, wishing to just disappear from the world. 

Keith is too tired to keep up the wall between himself and Krolia, letting them fall. 

Krolia barges in, the strongest emotion worry. She inquires him, asks him if he’s okay.

The only answer he can provide her is a broken no. 

Krolia takes immediate pity on him, not asking more questions. Instead, she immediately starts to soothe him with calming vibrations and thoughts. She starts to hum a tune, something she said was from Earth. Something she learnt from Keith’s dad. 

The tune calms Keith down and he lets the sound surround him, closing his senses from everything else. It’s like he’s a kid again and his mom is trying to get him to sleep.

At some point he must’ve fallen asleep, for the world turns warm around him. He is no longer sitting on a cold and hard prison floor, but on something softer, like the ground. The air isn’t hot and still but windy, throwing his hair around. 

Keith raises his gaze, confused, and his eyes widen at the sight around him. 

It looks like a desert. The view goes on for an endless amount of distance to every direction, the land barren and empty. 

With shaky feet Keith stands up, looking around himself. The sky is light blue, littered with fluffy clouds that move lazily with the wind. 

Something tugs inside Keith’s chest, making him walk. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but he walks, following the feeling. It takes him through the desert as the day moves around him. Even if the sun is grilling his head, he feels no thirst nor heat. His feet don’t get tired nor is he get blinded by the the bright sun. 

At sunset he arrives at the front of a cave. The feeling inside his chest grows as he approaches it, wary. 

Keith tries to see what the cave holds, but it’s dark. He hesitantly walks closer, as if attempting to touch the darkness. 

He freezes when he hears sounds behind him, like a group of people. Without thinking he jumps into the darkness for cover. 

Keith wakes up with a jolt, the desert gone, replaced by the floor. Krolia has left Keith to his senses, clearly focused on something else.

This time the tears do come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I started writing this a while ago and I now find myself re-writing a lot of the whole thing. It is a good thing that I've clearly improved during the last months, but... ugh. 
> 
> Also, I originally wrote this whole thing in a different time perspective (I don't know what the correct term is?) so now I have to change everything from 'Keith did' to 'Keith does'. Sorry if I miss spots. 
> 
> The comments you guys have left are super nice! I love reading them and answering to them even more!


	4. There isn't a witty name for this chapter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It starts out fine... but shit hits the fan. Warnings for implied/not graphic non-con. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please ignore my varying chapter lengths. I don't really want to draw them out too long or cut them short so... :P

Time muddles into something unrecognizable in Keith’s head. He doesn’t have a night cycle in his cell, he just sleeps when he feels like sleeping. They bring him food, but Keith can’t be sure if they do it at a certain time. He actually manages to eat some, even if the taste is off every time. 

He knows that they were meddling with quintessence. That first time had been a huge amount of it, but he had survived, which had encouraged Haggar. Macidus likes torturing Keith, especially using the muzzle on him and mapping him. Keith’s life has turned to one experiment after another, the way how electricity moves through him being the only thing keeping him somewhat alive and feeling.

Keith can guess it is scarring his back. His hair is longer now too, grown out of the usual mullet into something that touches his shoulders. His bangs shadow his eyes, which are light-sensitive, making Keith squint every time the cell door is opened. 

The only person keeping Keith company is Krolia. She talks to him through their bond as often as she can, but ever since she got back to base she’s been busier and busier. Her normal thing is to reach out to Keith, tired, and complain how Kolivan still doesn’t authorize a rescue operation. The norm for Keith is to tell her that it’s okay and that she should rest. Krolia almost always says no. 

They practice talking through the connection but the distortion is a big stupid ball of annoyance, making their conversations simple and short yet over-complicated. Every time they try to say something, the risk of it being misunderstood is big. 

So they find themselves practicing emotions, trying to make conversations by sending waves of emotion. By now, Keith can understand what his mom is saying by just… sensing what she’s saying. It is hilarious, sometimes, leaving Keith giggling in his cell like a madman. 

The time Keith pulled up his walls is left as a sore subject, but when it happens again after Keith got snappy at Haggar, Krolia seems to have guessed what happened, her thoughts tainted with sadness.

Keith is curled into his corner again, hiding. He has become a big ol’ coward, but he has no choice. Being impulsive now will lead to problems like angry Haggar and… punishment. 

It will take weeks to not feel dirty again. 

The world is shaded black, every shadow looking bigger and fuller, like something is hiding in them. Keith clutches his water pouch, sipping on the water. He longs for something else to eat then the same quintessence-filled food goo, but it is better to eat it then for it to be injected into him or something. At least the quintessence has some interesting effects on the taste of the goo. 

Today it is dark blue and tastes a bit like mud and sand, the goo cracking under Keith’s teeth. It is disgusting, but it is better then what they’d fed him yesterday. The goo had tasted like something close to sweat and drool, which was so disgusting the guard had to force it down his throat. 

The hatch opens as a sign for Keith to push the tray back, which he does after chugging down the rest of the water. He adores the hint of light shining through the hatch, even if it is hard on his eyes.

Something clinks down through the hatch before it closes, making Keith’s ears twitch. He freezes, thinking that the guard will realize, but when nothing happens Keith has the strength to feel around with his hands for what had made the sound. 

He almost grunts out loud when something sharp pricks his finger, but he slaps a hand over his mouth. He, with careful hands, examines it again in the darkness. 

The object is small and hard, like a piece of metal or some other hard surface. It has sharp edges, which Keith has to very carefully feel around. 

He turns it around in his hands, figuring out it is small, perhaps the size of half a butter knife in width and length. It is irregularly shaped, so it is definitely a piece of something. 

Keith just can’t figure out what. 

So, instead of thinking about it, he tries to find a hiding spot for it. After a while of creative thinking and fiddling around, Keith manages to slide it sideways at the back of his collar, hidden where Macidus possibly dragging him would not notice nor would it press against his skin. 

With a slight smile dancing on his lips brought by the new means of self-defense he’d acquired, Keith curls back into his corner.

-

Keith wakes up to the door opening, revealing Haggar behind it. Keith rises his head, not looking up to the witch’s eyes, but maybe somewhere around her shoulders. He can make out the tips of her white hair poking out from under her hood, even if he has to squint and hard. 

”You’re going to be moving today”, she informs him, motioning with her hand. 

Keith moves up to stand on his shaky legs. He has been doing laps around the room periodically, but it isn’t even close to what his blade training used to be. 

”Have you finally gotten tired of me?” Keith asks, joking around as Haggar puts him in handcuffs. He still has the heavy chains on his ankles, restraining his movement. Keith walks with his eyes only slightly opened, the heavy lighting in the hallway making him tear up.

”No. This is just a temporary cell. I thought you would die or turn into something less… conscious after consuming such large amounts of quintessence”, Haggar explains with a very professional tone, which honestly surprises Keith. The witch seems to be in a good mood. 

”No, I think I have most of my brain cells left”, Keith answers as they round a corner. 

Keith’s eyes start to get used to the light, resulting in him inching his eyes open. He spots Haggar, tapping some code into a touch pad next to the door. Keith memorizes the code, even if he doesn’t think he can get much out of it.

The next hallway is more populated, guards moving around. It looks like a hallway, adjoining a bunch of other hallways together. There are a few benches and even a snack machine, which literally blows Keith’s mind.

They walk by a few guards and the other one coos, making Keith shiver. He shows his teeth at the guard, who pulls back. 

”They had fun when you were over”, Haggar points out when they enter a guard-less hallway. 

”The feeling was not mutual.” 

Haggar hums as an answer. Keith can almost call it a chuckle, which is completely new and almost makes him stumble. The two walk through a few more turns and Keith swears he can hear Haggar humming along to something. 

Then they enter a hallway with a few druids and the humming stops. Haggar hides her previous aura, changing it into a brooding one. It brings shivers to Keith’s spine. He can see the druids stiffen.

”Good evening high-priestess”, a druid says, bowing her head. 

”An another prisoner?” an another one asks, tilting their head. 

”Just a transfer. This one is very interesting, Meira. I’ll send you the files later”, Haggar answers to the druid. One druid is tapping something into a pad next to a heavy-looking door. Keith cocks up his ears and realizes that whatever or whoever trapped on the other side of the door is crying, the sound very muffled but still there. 

”What are you listening to?” Haggar asks, stopping Keith with one hand. 

”I- The person in that room is just crying”, Keith mutters, nodding to the direction of the door, which he now notices is outlined in blue.

”Really?” Haggar asks, sounding genuinely surprised. 

The druid tapping the panel turns to Keith’s direction. 

”You can hear through these walls?” She asks, speaking with more emotion Keith can usually hear in the druids’ voices. 

”Yes. Not clearly but…”, Keith says and finishes his sentence with a shrug. 

”Interesting”, the druid notes, sounding much more composed. 

Haggar hums, motioning for Keith to continue walking, thankfully leaving the crying prisoner behind. 

Keith notices that the hallway doors are color coded. They had started with light blues and whites, moving along with the spectrum to green and yellow. The amount of druids decrease after every color. 

”What do the colors mean on the doors?” Keith asks, unable to cover his curiosity and willing to try his luck with Haggar’s good mood. 

”It is a simple way to organize the prisoners. Starting with white and moving all the way to dark red and black. White doors contain the least dangerous or interesting subjects, while black is the most dangerous or interesting. We like being organized here”, Haggar says, as if laughing on about an inside joke, which Keith does not understand. “Although, a lot of my people seem to prefer the blue doors…”, Haggar adds to herself

The rest of the walk is quiet as Keith muddles on about Haggar’s joke and laugh. He is also a bit worried about the increasing amount of red. 

They finally glide into a stop. The hallway is a bit that turned away from the main area, where the colors were already deep red. Keith had also seen a few doors uncolored, one that was cracked open revealing some kind of experiment room and an another one looking like storage space, where a druid had been shelving something that looked like body parts. 

The door is normal-sized and the coloring on the edges is pitch black. 

”This is your room”, Haggar says, making the heavy door creak open with a swish of her wrist. 

Keith raises his eyebrows: ”Am I really a black?” 

Haggar nods. 

”Is it the quintessence resistance or the fact that I murdered a ship’s worth of galra?” Keith asks, feeling a bit daring again.

The witch crooks her head, motioning for him to step into the room, leaving the question unanswered.

Keith walks in, no longer shaky, and looks around.

Alright, this is quite an improvement. He has an actual bed now, instead of having to sleep in a corner. There is also a toilet, which Keith is delighted by, since he’d been doing his things in the opposite corner of his old cell. He wishes luck to whoever was forced to clean it.

Keith falls into the sheets. The mattress is hard, but it is about the same as what Keith had back at the Marmora base, so it is nothing new. He has a blanket but no pillow. I guess you can’t have everything. 

”Keith, I just wanted to let you know how grateful I am of your cooperation ever since that little escape attempt was dealt with. It is almost delightful to work with you. Keep doing this and I might grant you a pillow”, Haggar says, probably winking. Not that Keith can see it, but he appreciates the effort. 

”Oh how wonderful. A pillow is everything I have been dreaming of”, Keith says, sounding a bit sarcastic. Well, a bit is an understatement. 

”Enjoy your stay”, Haggar says and the door clanks close, leaving Keith in the light of a flickering circle above him. 

Keith searches the whole room. He reaches up to the lamp and feels around the edges to see if he can take it off, but it is somehow behind a transparent surface covering the room from wall to ceiling. The toilet has no parts he is able to budge off, nor is the water in it much help. The door has the usual hatch at the bottom, but Keith can’t take anything off of it, especially when it is a sliding hatch, all the machinery hidden deep inside the heavy door.

The silence is what probably makes Keith the most anxious. Yes, he can listen outside, but his cell is so far into the complex no one is really around, and listening that closely takes up a lot of energy. Sometimes a druid will shuffle by, and if Keith had good luck two. The druids usually talk about something, which always picks up Keith’s interest. Of course, they never spoke official Empire business, which is to be expected.

At his ’temporary’ cell he’d at least heard the engines of the ship he was in. He’d taken comfort in the sound, seeing as no matter what side you were on, ship’s engines sounded the same. 

Now the only thing keeping him somewhat sane is Krolia, who keeps on checking in. She’s clearly not willing to give up on Keith, and he finds himself appreciating it. 

Kolivan on the other hand has given up on him, to the point where he ordered Krolia to give up on Keith and tried to get her to cut off their mind connection. 

But Krolia is persistent. There will be nothing coming between her and her son. Keith finds himself turning to Krolia more and more, if just there to give her support on a hard mission. She is not only the only person he can sort of talk to, and also his only link to the outside world. 

He still has his impromptu weapon for emergencies, but Keith realizes that it will quite useless for self-defense. Completely useless for attacking, maybe useful for defense, but he fails to see a situation where defending himself would benefit himself in any way. 

With a huff he keeps it close anyway, silently praying he’ll have no reason to use it.

-

Keith, to his delight, notices a few things different from the ’temporary’ cell. 

Here, he gets to go exercise about once a movement or more. The gym is small and very underappreciated, but Keith craves for the exercise. He can notice his muscles weakening, which is no good thing, especially for someone who needs to move as much as Keith. 

The food is also better. It isn’t just boring space goo, but instead there is the occasional soup and on rare occasion actual meat. Of course, space goo is the main food, but sometimes it comes with things like bread or even dessert if Keith's been a ‘good boy’. 

To Keith’s delight Macidus stops visiting, meaning much less mapping and less anger-issues, which also led to Keith being a ‘good boy’ and earning occasional bonuses from Haggar. 

One that he enjoys is paper and a pen. He usually draws nothing too important. He likes to do big, complicated landscapes, even if he does have only one color. He also draws some shaky drawings of his mom, although the image of her has faded so much, that they look more like self-portraits. Keith wishes he could send pictures through their mental link, wishing to show her the drawings. 

Keith also likes the showers he is allowed after exercising. His hair is now so long he wished for a ponytail (which he was denied). It hangs heavy against his back, the presence of it bothering Keith. His bangs are long too and he is sure the muzzle has left him a mark. 

Yet there are no mirrors anywhere. No substance is hard enough for Keith to get a reflection. Everything is matte. Keith also never sees anyone’s eyes, especially long enough to find his own reflection in them. The druids wear masks and Haggar hides her eyes. The guards wear their helmets, hiding their eyes. Keith doesn’t see anyone else, no other prisoners or test subjects.

It is annoying, but Keith learns to live with it. 

It has been long now. If he really does get exercise every movement, he’d been here for nearly half a Deca-Phoeb, but counting in the time he’d spent in the ’temporary’ cell, he is unsure. Haggar refuses to tell him anything on the rare occasion he sees her, which truly is rare. She has been visiting him less and less, something that Keith’s not complaining about, but still. Is it something he should be worried about or not? 

Something is starting to spar inside him. A little bit of rebellion, mostly out of boredom. He is starting to get sick of the experiments, one following another. He’s pretty sure the quintessence is damaging his system by now. 

Keith is disturbed from his thoughts by the cell door opening. He jumps up from his bed, expecting a druid or even worse, Haggar, but… it’s a guard. 

Keith scrunches his eyebrows, staring at the guard, who stands in the open doorway. He can see more of them behind the one opening the door. 

A sense of dread fills Keith. He doesn’t move an inch, and neither do the guards. They all just stand there, like time has frozen. 

The guards move, filing into the room. Keith backs up, against the wall. He resists the urge to grunts as his back hits the wall, instead preferring to stay quiet. 

Three of the guards close in on him, trying to grab him, which gets Keith moving. He squats down, sliding away from under their raised arms. He ends up next to his bed, and uses it as leverage to throw himself at one of them, throwing the guard at the guy next to him. 

Regardless of Keith’s actions, the guards overpower him. He kicks, bites and claws, but the guards have the upper hand. 

Krolia’s calls get to him, even when he’s not concentrating on it. She yells at him, tells him to keep fighting, but there are so many of them. 

Suddenly Keith is back at the ship, knife in hand. He is bloody, tired and aching all over. 

He freezes. He doesn’t want to kill anyone. He goes slack, eyes unseeing. The soldiers surround him, touch him- use him. And Keith is lost, unable to stop them, unable to move. His whole body is on lock down, he has lost connection to his limbs. He wants to reach for his little weapon, but his clothes are lost. His control is lost. 

He can hear everything the guards say. They call him by names, mock him. They beat him up, they pull his hair, his ears. 

Keith realizes halfway through, that his walls aren’t up. Somewhere in this haze, where his vision is blurred by tears and he has lost control of himself, he senses Krolia’s fury. The pure hatred that fills Keith is so overwhelming Keith feels like he’s drowning, almost making him black out from the pure feeling. 

But… he doesn’t get his control back. The guards don’t stop. The names they call him don’t stop. No one comes to save him. He can’t save himself. 

He doesn’t… 

He can't...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't want to hurt Keith... but this has to happen, I'm sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you! Totally!


	5. Fuck this shit I'm out.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith doesn't think this through. He underestimates Haggar, which causes him to get into much deeper trouble then before. Mentions of past non-con but is it really something new?

Keith doesn’t know how long they guards were there. At some point they just… had enough. They left him there, naked on the cold floor. 

Keith has no power to stand. He can’t move. He just stares at his fingers, his sharp eyes picking out the different fur textures. He’s not calm, no, but he’s not panicking. He just is. He doesn’t feel anything. 

Krolia is there. In the complete silence she fusses over him, repeating a few motherly questions. 

Keith doesn’t answer. 

Keith never wants this to happen again. He refuses to. Every inch of his skin wants to rip itself off. As the feeling in his body, both mental and physical, returns, he feels humiliated and violated. He doesn’t know if Haggar allowed him, but, for the life of him, he can’t figure out why she would. 

But what he is sure of, is that she knew what was happening. Haggar for sure, somehow, knew what was going on, but did nothing. She let them do it, let them continue with their… 

He has to get out, one way or another.

So he devises a plan. He has been a good lab rat for too long. He though Haggar would at least protect him from things like this if he acted nicely but the recent events proved him otherwise. And this is the last straw - and Krolia seems to agree, even if she doesn’t approve of his plan.

Keith pulls his clothes back on, finding them in a surprisingly one piece. Then he finds his improv weapon, trying to get a good feel with it by striking a few strikes. His hand shakes with the movements, but he decides to ignore it in favor of trying to remember the best combat moves against druids. 

Keith has to wait for a long time before someone comes. He is brought food and can’t resist the tempting smell of it. He even gets dessert! Keith munches up the dessert, enjoying the piece of cake. 

To be honest, it is most likely the last piece of cake he is going to get. 

The person who finally enters the room is luckily a druid, since Keith was quite sure if he was able to do this to Haggar.

The door creaks open and the druid steps into view. 

”I was ordered to take you to the lab-”, the druid manages to say before Keith lunges forward, soundless, flying through the air, carried by the momentum of using the wall as leverage.

He has not forgotten his training, Keith realizes, as he attacks the seemingly surprised druid. He is a newbie, clearly, because he hasn’t cast a spell yet. Instead he staggers backwards, moving to cover his face with his hands. 

Keith slashes with ferocity in the narrow hallway, ignoring his shaking hands and body, slowly stopping him from attacking. 

But Keith refuses to let his body go on lock down. The last time it cost him dearly - and now… a bit of a shaky hand won’t stop him.

Someone must’ve heard the druid’s screams, because suddenly Keith is unable to move a single finger. The druid he’d attacked is breathing heavily, their gown torn. Keith can see patches of blood all over it, but most of it on the druid’s hands and face. Someone else hurries over, moving to examine the druid, who is now making a mess of the floor.

Keith realizes now that he’d probably caused some very permanent damage without even thinking. The druid is breathing heavily, the pool of blood growing bigger and bigger by the second. Soon it will reach Keith’s toes, even if most of the blood is soaked into both of the druid’s gowns. 

Keith realizes that the spell may not be the only thing keeping him in place anymore. He watches in horror as the druid he attacked shakes violently, grabbing the other druid with his hands. There is a sound coming from them, like a shaky groan. It sounds awful and Keith wishes he could pull his ears back. 

But luckily Keith doesn’t have to stay and watch the druid face their fate: instead he is grabbed by multiple druids. They carry him through a hallway to the examination room. Someone removes the spell, but it’s not like it has any effect. 

Keith is still frozen. He can see the druid’s blood on his hands. They restrain him, moving his hands to be cuffed to the wall. It feels unnatural to Keith and the druids seem to have some difficulty with moving his arms. 

Haggar walks in, literally fuming. Keith finally moves, if only to coil away from the witch.

”Leave us”, Haggar orders coldly. Keith can tell she’d had a bad day today. He grimaces, preparing for his fate. 

Haggar turns to him and opens her arms. 

”What has gotten into you now? You were perfect for so long!” Haggar says, sounding like a mix of angry and confused. Maybe a bit concerned but it may be Keith’s imagination. 

Keith keeps quiet, only glaring daggers at Haggar. He has to sound hateful. He can’t sound distraught. He can’t sound broken. 

”You killed one of my druids. Why?” Haggar asks, tone strictly professional. She creeps closer and Keith snaps his fangs at her. 

”I am sick and tired of acting like a perfect little toy for you and your experiments. Or for your guards for that matter”, Keith says, spitting out the word guard like poison. “You treat beings with free will like lab rats!” 

”Is that what this is about?” Haggar sighs, shaking her head in disbelief. 

”You thought I’d be glad you sent someone to rape me, especially when I showed my disinterest? You have some confusing things going on in there”, Keith hisses, struggling against his restraints.

”I did not send them there. The guards acted out of line-”, Haggar says, moving her arm dismissively.

“And yet you still let them finish what they started”, Keith argues, cutting her off. “You have no discipline with our soldiers, you let your ‘precious lab rats’ be treated like sex slaves right behind your back, and let me guess, the soldiers will receive no punishment for this behavior”, Keith lashes out, legitimately angry. 

”Do you really have the right to comment on how I lead my soldiers? What about you, you messed up your mission and, when your leader sent you on a scouting mission, you decided to murder an entire shipful of galra. And let me guess, he hasn’t authorized a rescue mission because he doesn’t think of you worth of such a dangerous operation?” 

Keith let out a groan:”You won’t shake me with things I already know. I fucked up, royally, but so did you. I tried to play nice. You know, I thought things would get better like this. I thought you would have at least some kind of control over what happens around here.”

“I am in control here!” 

“Are you?”

The two stare at each other, or Keith stares at Haggar’s hood. There is something very close to electricity sparkling between them, making Keith’s fur stand on end. Krolia is agitated by the tension, her nervous emotions getting through to Keith.

“You know, I decided I don’t deserve this. I won’t be your lab rat anymore.”

”Too bad you don’t have a choice in the matter.” 

”I’m gonna make sure it’ll be as hard as possible. Don’t expect me to just stop resisting after you scold me like a kit”, Keith hisses.

Haggar’s boy language went completely stiff. She makes sure to not let the tiniest bit of emotion through, making sure her voice is completely matte: “Well then. The Arena has been begging for me to send a new experiment their way. You’ll fit right in with the other lawbreakers. Hopefully you’ll find the ‘protection’ you’re searching for there. Let’s see what you prefer if you survive the next weeks.”

Keith and Krolia both froze. This was not the plan. Haggar still needed him, that much was clear, but she needed to get him somewhere where his recent activities would be dealt with care. 

The Arena was ten times worse than this place, as far as Keith is concerned. 

Yet, with a slightly shaking voice, he goes: “Bring it, witch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A really short chapter here, but it's more like a transition than a legitimate chapter. Also, Keith fighting with Haggar? Goals. I will make sure they do it again. Multiple times. Fuck Haggar.


	6. Don't care for the small, fragile alien child. Keith no-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody:  
> Not a single soul:  
> Keith, at the small alien: "Gotta protect."  
> Keith's brain: "Why?"  
> Keith: "You gotta."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no upload schedule whatsoever. Enjoy.

Keith wakes up a bit out of it, his vision unclear and fuzzy. 

The first things he notices are simple but make him a bit happier. 

He can hear the engines again. The hum of them is something he’d missed for too long. He’d almost forgotten their sound, constant and calming. 

The second thing is the shackles. They are heavy and sturdy, chaining him to the wall of a cell.

There are a few others in with him, all asleep apart from one, a small green alien with one big blue eye and one big yellow one. They look at Keith with a horrid expression as he shakes the sleep from his body, feeling around his body for anything broken. 

”M-mister Galra?” the small alien asks. 

Keith notices that the small alien is chained closest to him, possibly near enough for Keith to touch. 

Seems like the galra transporting them to the Arena don’t care if some little alien gets killed if Keith woke up angry. 

But Keith isn’t angry. He was glad to be out of Haggar’s lab and, even if the fate he was facing was one of the worst ones possible, it was better than whatever Haggar had in store for him. 

”Mister Galra?” the little alien asks again and Keith turns to them, his chain letting out a clank. It is much sturdier than the other alien’s, thicker and more securely attached. It almost brings a smile to Keith’s lips, that these galra take such caution with him. 

”Yes?” 

”Do you know where we're going?” the alien asks, glancing around with shaky eyes. 

They are so innocent. How had they ended up with a sentence big enough to wound up in the Arena? 

”The Arena. Do you know what that is?” Keith asks and something flashes in the little aliens’ eyes. Fear. 

”Y-yes”, they whisper, tugging their knees under their chin. 

The motion is so childlike it makes Keith’s stomach turn. He curses himself as he says:”Hey, what’s your name?” 

The alien turns to look at Keith with their big eyes, making Keith’s stomach turn again. 

”Meeri”, they say, their little mouth shaking. 

Quiznak, everything about them is small and fragile. Something in Keith yells must protect, and he does not have the strength to shut out the instinct. 

”Listen, Meeri. I don’t know what you’ve done to end up in the Arena, but there’s pretty much no way out of here for you. Keep close to me, okay?” Keith says, already regretting his words. 

”Really?” the alien asks, their big eyes widening even further, if possible. 

”Yes.” 

Meeri smiles wide, leaning back on the wall with a comfortable look.

”Thank you mister Galra”, the alien says. 

”Call me Keith.” 

”Keith.” 

The alien closes their eyes, breathing a bit calmer.

Keith looks around again, eyeing the rest of the people in the room. None are Galra, but one is at least part, with ears like Keith’s sticking out from the sides of their head. Their ears however are more vertical, as Keith’s jot upwards. A lot of the people in the room are probably knocked out or drugged like Keith was, and a lot of them look dangerous. 

Keith looks back at the little alien, who is now sleeping soundly. Anger splashes in him. Why would someone sentence a child like them to the arena? They might have done something bad, sure, but to the arena? Every opponent they’re going to face will be bigger than them, probably able to step on them to kill.

Keith doesn’t know what to do about it, so he settles back down, trying to wrench himself into a more comfortable position.

-

It has been probably hours, but Keith hasn’t gotten any sleep. Meeri has been sleeping next to him for a while now, but some of the others have started to wake up. A lot of them look at Keith, confused, but Keith keeps quiet. He knows he looks a lot like a full-blooded galra. 

The only one who probably knows he isn’t full-blooded is probably the other half galra, now awake too. Their expression is something a lot different from confusion, changing from fear to admiration and to anger. Keith tries to avoid looking back at them. 

The door swishes open to reveal a few guards holding heavy looking weapons. 

”Get up your asses. We have arrived at our destination”, the guard says, sounding pretty bored. 

Keith nudges Meeri awake before the guards walk over to them. Keith expects that they’d walk past like they’d done with everyone else, but they stop. Keith almost grunts in anger, but decides it is better to be quiet. 

”You’ll be escorted on your own”, the guard hisses, motioning for the other guard to do something while he detaches Keith from the wall. 

The other guard, who is not busy gaining Keith more attention, ushers Meeri forward. They squeal in surprise but thankfully walk where the guard pushes her, to the end of the line leading out of the ship. 

The guard who is holding Keith in place waits as the guard exits with the others. Keith knows it is his chance now. It would be easy to knock out this guard and take over the ship, escape to somewhere and steal an another ship, then pilot into a secluded area and contact Kolivan. 

”Don’t think about anything, scum”, the guard hisses, pressing his gun against Keith’s back. 

A drip of sweat rolls down Keith’s forehead. The ship is hot, now that the engines are off and someone has cut off the cold flow of air. Keith’s mouth is dry and he feels weakened, seeing as the last time he’d drank was when he’d eaten his last meal in Haggar’s lab. 

What was that, three days ago? 

The other guard joins them and ushers Keith out. He knew he’d lost his chance. 

The ship had landed on a docking area, currently occupied by one other ship. Keith joins the line of prisoners, still being escorted by two guards. 

Meeri is right in front of him and they glance back, looking at Keith for guidance. He gives her a reassuring nod and they turn back around, light colored hair flowing on their shoulders. Meeri’s skin is light green, but in the harsh purple lighting it looks more like dirty grey. 

They are pushed forward into a complex structure, filled with cells and people. Some are group cells, some only contain one or two prisoners. There are aliens of all shapes and sizes. 

They are lead into one of the bigger cells with bunk beds. The urinals are on one of the walls, a bit hidden but not nearly enough to give privacy. 

Keith picks himself a bunk bed, climbs to the upper bunk and realizes Meeri is settling under him. 

”Listen up newbies!” someone yells, making Keith’s ears twitch. 

He turns to look at a female galra officer standing in the doorway. The wall of the doorway is completely made out of bars, revealing a bunch of guards behind them. The bunks closest to it are empty and everyone seems to cover away from the galra. 

Even the bigger criminals populating the other side of the room. 

”My name’s Freld! There’s a few solid rules here! Feel free to fight it out but please, do not kill each other. You’ll be delivered food twice a day, everyone has their own meals. No stealing each other’s meals. We’ve gotten a few instances of death because of wrong diets. Now, here you’re not allowed to die anywhere else but up there”, the galra explains, pointing up at the end of her speech, undoubtedly to where the actual arena is.

Everyone makes grunts of understanding as Keith eyes Freld. She is tall and bulky, with big ears and muscles. Her dark fur is messy and she has long, dark grey hair, which is braided and lays on her shoulder. Her uniform is one of a higher officer. 

The one bossing everyone around here.

”If you get sick, report in”, she continues, letting her eyes sweep over everyone. They halt above Keith and something flashes in them, but it is gone as soon as it appeared. 

Still, it leaves Keith feeling cold long after. 

”Any questions?” the galra asks. 

No one says anything. 

”Good! The first fights are tomorrow”, she smirks and steps back, closing the door behind her. It lets out a squeak and makes Keith flatten his ears. 

Everyone goes back to what they were doing. Keith looks at his bunk. He has a small blanket, no pillow. 

A frustrated huff is heard from the bunk under Keith and he looks down instinctively, his long hair flowing over his shoulders like a waterfall. 

”Meeri?” Keith asks as he sees the little alien kneeling on their bunk, pouting. 

”I didn’t get a blanket”, they say, looking around. 

Keith glances around the room. The empty and unused bunks have been carried out by a few guards and the others have spread out. Every bunk is in use and Meeri had gotten the one without a blanket. 

Keith bites his lip and glances at his own blanket. The fabric isn’t very thick, but it is better than nothing. On the other hand, he has fur and Meeri has what seems to be thin skin. They are already shaking a bit, although probably more from frustration than being cold. 

”Here”, Keith sighs, sliding his own blanket down. 

Meeri looks up with wide eyes as they take the blanket from the edge. 

”Isn’t this yours?” they ask, handling the blanket with delicate movements. Keith can see marks on her wrists, where chains had been. They had all been removed when they’d been let into the room. 

”You can have it. I have fur after all”, Keith says, trying to sound reassuring. 

Meeri seemingly believes him and takes the blanket, offering Keith a wide smile as payback. Keith’s heart aches as he coils around himself, trying to gather some warmth.

Keith calls out for Krolia, trying to ignore the occasional stare on his back. Krolia is worried, of course, but Keith can't stop the wave of... calm taking over him. 

This is familiar: prisons, hateful guards. This is something he can handle. This is not a crazy witch-alchemist who has questionable morals and the mood changes of a teenager.

Krolia doesn't really agree with Keith's way of thinking, but lets it go anyway, leaving Keith to his own senses. 

The bunk is cold.


	7. Tutorial: How to be badass, by Keith Kogane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith has gathered himself a reputation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a few days! I was at a pride parade with a friend of mine so I couldn't publish a complete chapter. Sorry if my proof reading is a bit sloppy today, I felt lazy. Whoops.

Keith had gotten a minimal amount of sleep. Meeri keeps moving around a lot in their sleep, muttering occasionally. Keith had intentionally picked out a bunk further away from the others, but their other cellmates keep glancing at Meeri with glints in their eyes. 

The combination of his natural instincts, the glares of their cellmates and the constant clanging of cells somewhere so far no one else seemed bothered by kept Keith awake. He’d fall asleep and wake up a varga later to stay up for two vargas and sleep again. 

When the next day comes, Keith has luckily gotten enough sleep to have his senses sharp and ready for the fight. 

When the female galra comes again Keith has braided his hair and switched his old clothes off in a bit of a more secluded corner into the new prisoner outfits they’d been given. Keith aches for a shower but none are in sight, which is greatly disappointing. There are no mirrors either, again, very disappointing, but it makes sense.

”Alright, alright! Settle down!” Freld yells, clapping her hands together. 

Everyone else gets up from their bunks, muttering something very insulting Keith could hear quite clearly, but the galra seems to ignore it as she prances around. 

Keith stands next to his and Meeri’s bunk. He had woken the small alien up before anyone else, and they're now making sure their own hair is out of the way. 

Keith is a bit saddened that they will most likely die today, but he tries to ignore it. He’d done everything he could to make their last days enjoyable, but someone as fragile as them couldn’t survive a place like this. 

Freld stops by Meeri and Keith, making him hiss slightly. What was it with the guards and giving him extra attention? 

”We have military perfection over here”, the galra says, words more a hiss than anything. 

Keith keeps his chin up and forward, following Freld with only his eyes. Meeri stands next to him, trying to imitate what Keith was doing. Keith hasn’t yet decided, whether or not this attention is for better or worse.

”Tell me, rookie, what was it like to slaughter a ship full of galra?” Freld asks, throwing Keith and everyone throwing glances at them off their track. 

Keith gathers his thoughts and refuses to look at Meeri. 

”Are you asking emotionally or physically?” Keith asks, blinking, but keeps his gaze locked on her eyes. Freld has no irises, just the yellow sclera. It gives her a very eerie look.

”We have a smartass here. Both”, she hisses, throwing spit in Keith’s direction. Some probably hits his cheek, but he doesn’t move. This reminds him of his early Blade training, Learning to take harsh commands and, to some degree, bullying. This is way too easy for Keith, just like how it went in practice. 

”I felt no emotion. I told myself there would be more. Seems like there wasn’t. I was just fighting for my life. I thought I would take as many of them with me as possible, that’s it. Physically it killed me. Well, almost”, Keith says, keeping his eyes on the general. 

”My cousin was on that ship. He deserved better than to die at the hands of a half breed scum like you”, Freld hisses, stepping away from Keith, a clear signal that the conversation is over. 

Something lights a spark in Keith’s chest: a chance. The others are already scared, seemingly Keith has created a reputation for himself without realizing. If he uses this to his advantage… he could have an edge over the others. He could ensure his safety. Well, maybe not safety, but something very close to it. 

“Maybe your cousin picked a fight with the wrong agent.”

”Excuse me?” she asks, turning slowly around on her heels. 

The other cellmates cover in fear, but Keith is determined to prove himself. He has covered and played nice with Haggar for too long, something like rebellion sparking in him.

”They should’ve stopped. After I killed the what, hundredth soldier? They should’ve let me go. Send someone after me to finish an easy job on a wounded soldier who thinks they’ve gotten out. But you know the galra way. Victory or death. I have to give it to your brother though, he went by the saying. If anyone is to blame for his untimely demise, it is himself and the comrades who followed orders to hear”, Keith says, not completely agreeing with his own words, and watches the galra’s expressions change by whatever he spits out. 

”You can go around telling people I am some kind of half blooded scum, but really, I am just someone out of your cousin’s league he decided to pick on. I am not a murderer. The mission was never to murder them, no. I defended myself. I would’ve just gotten out, and that’s that, but I couldn’t. I think you should respect your cousin for trying and meeting his fate honorably in battle”, Keith speaks, giving the general a hard, cold, stare. 

Freld walks closer, slowly, but Keith can’t fear her. Not now, not ever after this. He has set his place now, and wherever that attitude will take him he will go. 

”Shut up. Don’t tell me how to speak of my flesh and blood”, she growls, edging closer. 

”Seems like I have to because you don’t know how to”, Keith bluntly states. 

Freld lunges forward, most likely with a plan to hit Keith in the jaw. 

The world slows down around Keith. The long captivity has slowed him down a bit, but not nearly enough to make years of training and combat experience melt away. Keith watches, calm, as the hand sneaks forward. He sees the terrified expressions of the others behind the galra, but they don’t matter anymore. 

Keith’s hands shake and it is difficult to move, like he is part of the slowed down world as well, but Keith still moves, even if it takes a bit of yelling at himself to do so. 

Keith ducks out of the way, letting Freld dance forward. She breathes out, clearly not having expected the fast reflex. 

”You bastard!” she shouts, spinning around to catch Keith, but he had circled to her side. 

With one swift movement he knocks her legs out from under her, making her topple over with a grunt. 

He doesn’t bother go and try stop her from standing up. She seems like she is strong enough to push him away anyway. 

”You think you’re better than everyone here, huh?” the galra asks, moving to stand. 

Keith has no doubt everyone’s attention is singled on his next words.

”No”, Keith says, stopping for dramatic effect. ”I think I’m worse”, he hisses, leaning towards the galra’s face. 

Something distorts in the galra’s face at the words. It is pure hate, like a pyre. Keith can’t remember the last time he saw such a violent emotion in someone’s eyes, not even Haggar’s. It makes him shiver, but he decides not to show any weakness, answering her with blazing eyes of his own.

But she moves out from her fighting stance and shrugs the dirt off from her shoulders. 

”We’ll see about that today”, she says, spitting to the floor, right next to Keith’s foot. ”Scum,” she ads, like an afterthought. 

-

Meeri stays far from Keith the way upstairs. Some other prisoners come to introduce themselves, most from the group hanging out on the bunks across from Keith and Meeri. They ask for him to join their cute little gang but Keith declines, pointing out that he will most likely be killed off in the next approximate three fights. They don’t really care, but Keith realizes he’s gained himself enough respect to be left alone. It leaves a pleasant thrum in his gut. 

The arguing had spooked up Keith’s reflexes nicely and he is twitching in place as the other half-galra, a guy named Hale talks to him. Hale has wide, bulky shoulders like a trunk. His light blue hands are covered in scars and he has thick eyebrows. The droopy ears Keith had pointed out in the transport ship do not help the tough guy persona Hale is trying to hold up though, and neither does his bubbly persona.

Keith avoids looking at Hale too much. He doesn’t want to connect with these people: they will all be killed eventually, unless… well, Keith doesn’t want to consider the alternatives. They wouldn’t be able to escape, no, the only ways out of the Arena are… death or slavery. For Keith though... well, he could always go back to Haggar. 

As if.

Instead, he focuses on the flight of stairs leading them up to increasing amounts of yelling and feet hitting the floor. 

Is that chanting? 

”Do you hear that?” Keith asks when Hale finishes his sentence.

”Hear what?” Hale asks, raising an eyebrow. ”I can’t hear anything.” 

Keith shakes his head: ”Never mind. Forget about it.” Damn his sensitive ears.

”Okay. Is it true though?” Hale asks. 

”Is what true?”

”That you got caught because half of your body was bruised and you couldn’t walk?” Hale asks, something sparkling in his eyes. 

”No”, Keith says and chuckles quietly. The sound is quite unfamiliar by this point but it flows out at command. ”One of the commanders I killed had a deployable smoke bomb with them, which exploded after I had killed them. I was knocked out by the smoke”, Keith explained, imagining like he’d be briefing a mission to Kolivan. As long as Hale would keep quiet now, Keith could almost imagine he was home again.

Hale shrugs. ”Not like I thought it was true or anything.” 

Keith doesn’t answer. Instead his eyes are locked on Meeri’s head, popping in and out of sight. They have been mixed in with the cellmates a few cells over, it seems, since Keith couldn’t recognize most of the faces. 

People do seem to recognize him, though. There are a lot of lingering stares.

”What about the scars on your back? Where’d you get those?” Hale asks, going off again. 

Keith stops thinking and focuses in on Hale again. 

”What?” 

”Y’know, the scars on your spine? Kinda look like lighting?” Hale specifies. 

Keith scrunches his eyebrows. He doesn’t recall ever having an injury like that on his back… Macidus. 

”None of your business”, he answers, curt. 

”Ah, we all have our secrets. At least I tried”, Hale says, shrugging, and continues on, babbling about something unimportant. 

When the booming coming from above them grows, even Hale starts to hear it. The light talk that had been going around before silences, until all that’s left is the unmistakable shouts of an audience. 

No one dares to say a word. Reality of their situation dawns on some people. There are countless of different reactions. Some have wide eyes, glinted with fear. Those will be the ones who die today. Some have serious looks. Those will be the ones who have a chance to live today. 

Keith wishes he could see Meeri’s expression but she’s too far up ahead for him to see. The only thing he can make out is squared shoulders and tied up hair. 

They arrive at the top of the stairs and enter some kind of huge room. 

To Keith’s surprise it is filled with weapons. Of every size and form Keith can think of, raging from war hammers to tiny, tiny knives. 

Hale disappears from Keith’s side in a flash, practically teleporting to the war hammers. Keith can see Meeri run towards smaller, agile knives. 

Keith doesn’t know what to do. He has no idea if there were any morphing swords here, resembling something like what his knife used to be. He could always opt for his dual-wield, but that is more of a backup plan than anything Keith is really serious about.

Someone taps Keith on the shoulder, making Keith swirl around and grab the hand touching him. 

It turns out to be a guard, probably shaking in his armor. Keith has a flash of pity but he pushes it back before he has time to process it. Having pity on random guards is not going to fit into his new persona.

”T-this is for you. A gift from a sponsor”, the guard babbles, offering Keith a small box. 

What is in it catches Keith’s attention. 

It is his knife. The Blade symbol is tightly sealed behind wraps pretty much glued to the hilt and the blade has been cleaned from it’s dirt, a chore Keith had never managed to get to doing.

With an open mouth he takes it from the box, letting his fingertips dance along the surface. It is comforting to see the old thing after such a long time – it reminds Keith of a time long ago. A time hell of a lot better than what he is currently living.

”Wait- a sponsor?” Keith asks and rips his eyes from the knife, but the guard is gone, leaving behind a baffled Keith holding onto his knife with all of the possible life force he had. 

”Alright everyone, gather up!” a familiar voice yells, clapping. ”Quiet down please!”

Keith stalks closer, holding his knife firmly. Hale appears next to him, holding a huge war hammer. He is currently swishing it around, probably trying to get used to the weight and width of the weapon. 

”What’s that?” Hale asks, nodding to Keith’s knife. 

”Apparently I got it from a sponsor…”, Keith mutters, turning the knife around slowly, as if still not believing it is there. 

”Weird. Usually the people who have sponsors are champions or something. That looks kinda specific”, Hale says, now stretching. 

”It used to be mine before I got caught”, Keith says, raising his attention from the knife to the instructions. 

”Now, we’ll be calling you in one by one. Since you don’t have codes tattooed on your wrists yet, we’re here a little early so we have time to do that! That code will become your name tag, something you will be spoken to by the guards and referred to. I suggest you learn the combination, not just rely on your wrist. After all, we don’t know if you can keep that wrist”, Freld explains, motioning towards a bunch of tables on a side wall. The guards sitting behind the tables hold some kind of… tattoo slips? They look more like those temporary tattoos Keith had brought with him from Earth than anything else.

But Keith moves into a line, a few people before him. With hard eyes he watches as the first person is tattooed. 

At first it works just like the Earth tattoos. You place it on your wrist and a wet cloth over it. 

That’s when the first person to be tattooed screams. The scream echoes in the tiny room, making the mass shift nervously. Keith tries to look for the source of the scream but doesn’t find anyone who could’ve made the high-pitched sound.

“You think that hurts?” Hale asks, nervous. 

“I bet it does.”

Hale lets out a long sigh, leaning on the war hammer. He looks comfortable with it, handling it with very experienced movements. 

“My mom always insisted that I wouldn’t get tattoos”, Hale explains, huffing. “She’s gonna be so mad if she finds out.”

“I think you’ll be fine. If you ever see her and she’s able to find out about it, I think she’d be more focused on seeing you alive than the tattoo you were branded with”, Keith mutters. 

Keith thinks about Krolia for a second and considers contacting her. He glances around himself but realizes that there is no way he can calm down enough to reach her, not in this situation. Even the normal presence of her is dim, due to Keith having too much to focus on. It frustrates him. 

“Oh Keith, here you go again, making me feel better”, Hale says, winking to Keith.

“You’re welcome buddy”, Keith answers but doesn’t reciprocate the flirty tone. 

They stand in silence for a while as Keith watches the other prisoners get tattooed. The level of hurt is varying, but it is clear that the tattooing isn’t a pleasant experience. 

More reason for Keith to act like it’s nothing.

“So what did you do, before all this?” Hale asks nonchalantly when there are only two people before Keith. 

“Are there no rumors about it?” Keith shoots back, not really up for explaining the Blade of Marmora to Hale. 

“Well some people say you were a rebel but I don’t personally think so”, Hale says, tilting his head. “The Empire is making you out to be some kind of war criminal. A soldier who went rogue. Not a lot of people believe it though.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“You don’t know what your reputation is?” Hale asks, perplexed. 

“No…?” 

“Where were you these past months!? You’re like a celebrity!” Hale squeals, opening his mouth to start explaining, but Keith shushes him with a finger and turns, ready for his turn on the tattoo machine.

The galra handling the sheet doesn’t look up from it. 

“Please sit down and give me your wrist. If you fail to keep still I will have to chain you to the table”, the guard says, cutting out a serial number. 

When the galra looks at Keith their eyes widen. They almost drop the sheet of tattoo paper but manage to grab it at the last possible moment, stumbling a bit. 

Keith stays quiet but adds pressure by giving the guard one of his resting faces: Kolivan would be proud.

The guard may look shook but his hands don’t shake. They press down the piece of paper… which feels more like steel, now that Keith actually touches it. 

Then they press the wet cloth over Keith’s wrist. 

The pain is… not as bad as Keith thought. He can see why the first person screamed though, because this could be quite scary for someone who doesn’t expect the pain. 

It feels like the numbers are eating into his skin, attaching themselves like tiny worms crawling under his skin. It makes Keith shiver, nothing else. 

The whole process is over in a few seconds and Keith makes no noise during it, looking at the guard with a bored expression. Keith can see the guard gulp. 

“You’re free to go”, he says quietly and removes the cloth and whatever remained of the tattoo sheet. 

Keith moves aside to examine the tattoo. 

The numbers are a standard galran font, displaying a most likely random number. 

510601.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of an odd place to cut the chapter but I didn't want to make it too long. 
> 
> Expect two chapters tomorrow! We're about to get into the juicy stuff :3
> 
> We've officially reached the halfway point of what I had originally written up to, yay! We're not halfway through though, nowhere near that. Jesus.


	8. T... tentacles? I promise this isn't what you think.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three fights. Three enemies. Three deaths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter of today! Second one will be up... soon... ish. A few hours, probably.

Keith stands next to a small window looking into the Arena. It is shadowed and hidden, not allowing the audience to see them looking out, and stopping Keith from seeing the audience. 

He can hear them, though. A constant chatter goes on above, probably some of the lower grade soldiers on cheap seats. Keith didn’t bother to listen in, instead trying to calm himself down enough to talk to Krolia. 

He is interrupted by Hale, who very noisily walks over, squinting at his left wrist.

“That hurt. This tattoo feels more like a real being then a tattoo. Disgusting”, Hale mutters and shakes his arm, as if trying to shake off the tattoo.

“Hmm”, Keith answers, looking at the battle going on outside. It is a small fighter against an another small fighter. Keith has to check twice and make sure neither is Meeri.

“What number did ya get? Mine’s 790561”, Hale asks, showing Keith his wrist, the blue slightly darker around the numbers. 

“510601.”

The two stand in silence for a moment, looking at the fight going on outside. The two agile fighters are very even-matched, neither a rookie in the art of one on one. The audience is clearly enjoying it. There is even someone yelling commentary over the fight, though the words are muddled together, hardly hearable through the thick walls.

“Hey Hale?” Keith asks, in a sudden need of an actual conversation. 

“Yeah?”

“You said something about my reputation… What is it?” Keith asks, fiddling with his knife. It feels comforting in Keith’s hands but… he can’t help but remember the last time he used it. The constant shake in his hands is something Keith still chooses to ignore.

“Well, the Empire tried to keep what happened a secret. But, of course, some of the family members of the galra who died looked into it. Someone hacked into the ship’s security footage and pulled up a video of you. Fighting in the hangar. They released the clip and now pretty much everyone from Zarkon to little kids have seen it”, Hale explained, looking at Keith. 

Keith looked back, eyes wide. 

“That was, of course, way back. Like a week after they captured you. Then, when everyone started asking around about you, Zarkon informed that you’ve been imprisoned. Half of the galra hate you. Half fear you. The non-galra who know either got hope or started to think of you as a fool. A lot of people want you dead”

Keith looks at Hale, trying to figure out what the half-galra thinks of him. Hale’s expression is unreadable. Keith has never seen him look like that. 

“Then you… pretty much disappeared. People tried to find you, both because they wanted to free you but also because they wanted to murder you into your cell. But they couldn’t find you. There were no traces of where you were transferred, no prisoner records. Nothing.” 

Keith has to gulp. Haggar did protect him, to some degree, after all. 

“And you became a mystery. The galra are devastated. Sure, there has always been rebellion but this… this had never happened before. Or, not for a long time, at least.” 

“So… what…”, Keith tries, but can’t form proper words. 

“When I got caught and saw you in that transport ship… I dunno, I didn’t believe it at first. You had become a myth. A lot of people think you’re still out there”, Hale speaks, throwing his arms up like pointing to the stars, “and there you were. Knocked out, way more steadily bind then most of us.”

Keith tears his eyes away from Hale. 

“That explains some things”, Keith mutters, tapping his chin with his finger. “Boy, I didn’t mean for it to blow up like this…” Keith continues, more to himself than Hale. “What-”

Keith’s sentence is cut short by a huge boom from the audience. The… third? Definitely third fighter had just been thrown around the arena by one of Haggar’s monsters. The wall he’d hit is splattered with blood and the challenger’s body is laying on the ground, lifeless. The beast on the arena roars, the audience yelling even louder. 

”That’s the first one of us dead”, Hale points out. 

Keith nods. This is the first beast Haggar has sent out, and immediately the difference between them and those things is clear. 

”I feel sorry for the next guy”, Hale huffs as the dead corpse of the previous challenger is dragged away, leaving a bloody trail behind him. Hale avoids looking at it, but Keith keeps his eyes on the body, half of it mulled into something unrecognizable. He has to get used to killing again. 

”And the next one in line is 790561!” 

Keith and Hale freeze. Hale looks to his code and bites his lip. 

”Good luck buddy”, Keith says with gritted teeth. 

Hale sighs before walking up to the door, the war hammer shaking in his hands. 

Keith almost doesn’t notice the person walking up to him, but the glint of silver colored hair catches the corner of his eye. 

”Meeri?” he asks, as the little thing walks up to him, where Hale had stood. 

”That guy. Was he your friend?” Meeri asks, blunt like a child, making Keith shiver. They speak of Hale in past tense already. 

”I don’t know”, Keith admits, biting his lip as Hale walks up to the beast, now circling around it’s own edge of the arena. 

”He’s going to die”, Meeri says. 

A simple truth, said with the blunt voice of a child, yet containing an underlay of emotions no child could convey. 

Keith and Meeri fall quiet, as they follow the battle. 

Hale is careful, but he has a small dilemma. The beast is stronger than Hale, with bulky arms. Even though Hale is one hunk of a man, he’s not big enough to compare to Haggar’s beast.

Hale also had picked a close range weapon. To be efficient with it Hale has to get up close and personal, which is not the ideal place to be when your opponent is able to throw someone as big as them across a stadium like a ball. 

At first Keith is worried for Hale. The man’s probability of surviving is dreadfully low. 

And then he scolds himself. This is the Arena, not a place to make new friends but a place to die. All of them have one destiny here, the only thing verifying is when and how. Would they die within a week or within a month? 

Besides, Keith has already shown care for Meeri, who is now leaning closer as Hale narrowly dodges the beast’s swipe at him. 

”I don’t want to watch. Tell me when it’s over”, Meeri whispers, back to being childlike. They press their forehead against Keith’s thigh, hiding out of view. 

Keith follows Hale’s movements, trying to find out what he is trying to do. The audience is getting bored, seeing as neither the beast nor Hale have even bled yet, just drawing out the fight. 

A slash and a dodge. A slash and a dodge. Hale keeps repeating the pattern, but even as he keeps on scraping the beast, he does not have enough time to properly attack, only hitting the surface of it’s hard skin. 

But something in Hale’s movements changes. He gets desperate and Keith notices the galra in the room shuffling nervously. 

Hale is evenly matched with the beast, and the match is drawing out too long. The audience is starting to get restless and Keith can, if he listens closely, hear the tired groans of bored soldiers.

Keith eyes Freld. She is leaning on the window, her eyes following Hale’s movements with a cold undertone. 

Hale is starting to get even more desperate, now taking a hit from the beast, leaving him staggering away. He’d managed to harm the monster too, though, and both of them waver in their steps, eyeing the enemy. 

Hale lunges forward, his axe in a weird position, held with one hand. The beast smiles, a toothy grin, and rises it’s massive arm in an attempt to swipe Hale. 

But Hale is ready for it, an grabs the beast by it’s forearm, stopping the movement altogether, while his axe does the talking and cuts the beast’s head off it’s neck. 

The audience booms, some moving to stand, while Hale stands there, next to the beast’s corpse, both arms shaking, shoulders slumped. 

Keith smiles. 

-

The amount of people in the waiting room lessens, seeing as they are escorted out quickly after their matches end. Now, it is only Keith, Meeri and a few others, all anxiously watching as the pieces of the previous challenger are carried out. 

The beast out now is probably the most animalistic out of all of them. It is like a huge wolf, towering over it’s every opponent. It has huge paws combined with sharp claws, glinting in the light of the arena. 

Keith doesn’t recognize the number called out, but he does recognize the mop of white hair. 

A chill travels through his body as Meeri walks into the arena, head held high and step unwavering. 

Keith doesn’t want to watch. He wants to do what Meeri had done all those rounds ago, press against someone bigger and hide his face from what he doesn’t want to see. 

But Keith is alone, the others standing a distance away. Hale had been escorted out quickly, and the man had offered Keith an encouraging smile. 

Keith watches as the beast jumps towards Meeri, hoping that it will give her a fast death. 

But the little thing dodges out of the way and the wolf hits the ground with a thump. Meeri uses it’s leg to crawl up to the beast’s back as the audience cheers them on. Keith’s eyes widen when the wolf snaps its jaws in desperate attempts to grab hold of them, but Meeri climbs, avoiding the jaws narrowly every time. 

Now they are at the creature’s neck. Meeri plants her feet down sturdily as the wolf does everything it can to shake them off from the only place it can’t reach. It tries to throw them off by jumping and moving in sharp turns and twists, but Meeri has a tight hold. 

The wolf even rolls around a few times and Keith covers his face, hoping to not see Meeri’s crunched body on the ground after, but they stick to the wolf with a tight hold, not even flinching. Meeri looks like they know what they’re doing

The wolf is starting to run out of stamina, sometimes waddling in it’s step. 

Meeri takes their chance and uses their knife to slash into the wolf’s neck, making it wail, but also get angrier. It does the same roll as before, now splattering blood everywhere. 

Meeri holds on, not bothered by the blood splattering all over them. Instead, they let the creature wear itself out and bleed, until the wolf is so tired it collapses on the ground, heavily breathing. 

Meeri climbs off, and even if Keith is unable to see their face, their shoulders are slumped as they move to slice the wolf’s neck and put it out of its misery. 

Meeri receives booming support from the audience, many stomping the floor with their feet, making the room shake like thunder. 

”510601, you’re next”, Freld says, locking eyes with Keith. Her face seems emotionless, but a small twitch of her mouth lets Keith know of her wishes of how the match goes for Keith. 

The next creature has not been revealed yet when Keith walks to the stage. The ground is covered by a lot of blood and even a few mysterious body parts, but Keith ignores them. He just has to be careful to not trip over a blood puddle and he’d be fine. 

The audience quiets down, greeting Keith with a silence. Thousands of galra soldiers are silenced as they recognize Keith. Even the guy speaking into the mic is silent, letting the Arena wash over into silence. 

The silence continues as the doors on the other end of the arena start opening, revealing darkness behind them. Keith keeps his eyes locked on the doorway.

The opponent that emerges is… a girl. 

She looks like straight out of some magazine, with spotless blue skin and long, dark hair. She has big, yellow eyes and a small smile is stretched on her lips. 

She is a bit shorter than Keith, he estimates. Her steps are light and airy, even if she is dressed in a typical prisoner garb. 

Everything about the situation screams odd, but Keith is careful. 

If she wasn’t with him and the other prisoners but on Haggar’s end of the table, she is some kind of experiment as well. 

”Keith? Is that your name?” The girl asks, her voice like an innocent child’s. Keith doesn’t miss the cold undertone, though. 

”Yes. It would be only fair for me to know yours”, Keith says, cold creeping into the back of his spine. 

”My name cannot be pronounced in galran but I am nicknamed Bali”, the girl informs him as she steps up to be in level with him. 

When Bali says her name the crowd booms, clapping and whooing, some even stomping the ground with their feet. 

”Sounds like you’re quite the show”, Keith states, keeping his eyes locked in Bali’s. 

She offers him a grin, flashing sharp teeth, akin to a piranha. Keith holds his knife with a strong grip, wishing he had picked up a second weapon just in case. 

They freeze. Neither wants to start the battle. 

Both hope to finish it, Keith figures. 

Bali is the one to move first, lunging for Keith’s knife with her fangs bared. Keith realizes that the girl hasn’t been given a weapon. 

Keith keeps it as a knife for now, the smaller size making it easier for him to avoid Bali’s long arms. She has long fingers with sharpened nails at the end, more like claws than anything.

Keith wishes his own nails were like claws as well, but Haggar has made sure to keep them short and they haven’t had time to grow.

Instead he uses his leg to push Bali away, making her spin off. The crowd booms as she lands on her feet, hissing at Keith. 

Then she morphs, letting out a horrifying scrunch, like her whole bone structure just broke. 

Now Keith is standing in front of a huge spider. Her legs are long and hairy, with two huge front fangs and… ten eyes? Twelve? 

Now Keith knows why the audience didn’t react at first. Now he knows why she was with Haggar instead of the other prisoners. 

A shapeshifter. 

Keith jumps out of the way of the fast-moving spider as the audience cheered it on. Bali has seemed to lose her ability to speak, but all of her eyes send hateful glares to his direction. 

Keith turns his knife into a sword, planning out his next move carefully. 

Bali’s eyes widen as the knife changes, but she lets out a horrifying screech, shooting web to Keith’s direction. 

Keith feels the whip of web sail past his head and dodges with pure luck, but he doesn’t have time to enjoy it. Instead, he is rushed by a giant spider. 

Keith panics and cuts off the first leg he comes to contact with, making Bali scream out but not stop her attack. Keith feels his prisoner grab get torn apart, but Bali barely makes contact with his flesh. 

Keith manages to distract her by trying to stab her eyes enough to roll away, cutting an another leg while he goes. 

Bali seems to deem this form unsuitable and changes again, now into a version of her previous self… but with tentacles? 

Keith cuts off the first tentacles heading his way, now wishing for that second weapon. Instead, he gets busy with his one, slashing at every tentacle in sight, slowly moving towards Bali, whose face is morphed into one of pure hate and anger. 

Yet her attacks are not as deadly as they could be. Every strike that hits him is only to the surface, making many minor scratches but nothing lethal. 

Keith doesn’t stop to make note of it. Well, he physically can’t, since his movement is the only thing keeping him alive for now. 

He makes it close to Bali now and he can see her difficulty on attacking on such a close range. 

He makes his first real attack, slashing at Bali’s neck. It spurts out blood, but the blood is completely black. 

”Please kill me”, Bali whispers, making Keith’s eyes widen. 

Bali locks her gaze on his as she withdraws her tentacles, turning one of her hands into a snake with venom dripping from it’s teeth. 

”I don’t want to kill anyone else. I’ve been here for two years. For two years I’ve spilled blood”, Bali confesses as her snake keeps Keith on the move. ”I’m done with it.”

Keith has a weird sense of companionship. 

The nod he gives Bali is small, but she catches it. Her eyes flash thankfulness before Keith lunges, catching the previously offensive girl off guard. 

He decides to honor Bali by giving his all and she seems to notice it too, a small slither of fear creeping into her eyes.

Keith cuts her side, more blood gushing out of her, coating his arm with black blood. The he runs away from Bali, who holds her side with her non-snake arm. 

With what seems to be small difficulty, she transforms her hand back and instead changes it for wings. The wings are gorgeous, made of white and black feathers. They stretch out far and wide, looking majestic. 

Bali jumps off the ground and Keith looks up to her with an open mouth. 

He has always wanted wings like that. To fly free – not in a ship but with wings of his own – is something Keith used to dream of as a small kit. He used to have daydreams about soaring off, high on some planet, with the sea far out under him. He hasn’t thought about flying for years… but something about Bali’s wings brought the memory back.

Keith is awoken from his thoughts by a sharp sting on his shoulders. 

He realizes that the feathers are sharp as hell, piercing through Keith’s clothes and skin, leaving a prickling sensation after it. 

Keith runs, avoiding the feathers thrown his way with his best ability, but it’s hard. Bali is able to throw them with deadly speed and accuracy – she just isn’t aiming for his head. 

Keith changes his knife and has to skid to a stop. He charges the shot and takes aim. Before he has time to think he throws it, the knife swishing through the air. 

It hits Bali straight to her forehead, making the girl fall out of the sky, wings sailing after her. She looks majestic even after death, wings spread out as if in one last attempt to fly. 

Keith bows over her and closes her eyes with an aura of respect.

The audience is quiet. Keith gets no clapping, no yelling. 

Nothing. 

In silence he walks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EYYY All of them made it! (FOR NOW HEHEHEHHEHE) 
> 
> Don't mind me I've had a lot of sugar today.


	9. Making the space prince angry is a good passage of time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith is made an offer that's hard to decline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter of today! Enjoy, as my sleep-deprived brain tries to write something serious but fails miserably.

The survivors of the first fight are directed back to their rooms. When Keith walks in, knife hidden at the back of his uniform, he finds himself caught in Hale’s embrace. Meeri clings to Keith’s leg, their hands coiling around it. 

”Damn it Keith”, Hale whispers and pulls away slightly, revealing Keith’s confused look. 

”What?” Keith asks, raising an eyebrow. 

”Bali was the previous Champion”, Meeri whispers. 

Keith thinks back to the vicious fighter and the way the audience had reacted to her name and shrugs. 

”It was a tough fight”, he says, sounding uncaring. 

It wouldn’t honor Bali’s memory to lie about it. Even when she wanted to die she still made it hard for Keith. 

”You aren’t even seriously injured”, Hale mutters, looking over Keith, who had gotten a new prisoner outfit to replace the shredded one and had his cuts cleaned. ”Actually, you look like you didn’t even break a sweat”, Hale continues, tilting his head. 

Keith smiles and passes Hale, walking towards his and Meeri’s bunk, leaving the question unanswered. He can feel eyes on him as he walks, and he knows if he were to look back, they would continue their fiddling without facing him.

Cowards. 

Keith shudders at his own thoughts. He has been here for a day now and he is already changing and morphing to his environment.

Just as Keith is about to climb up to his bunk the cell door clinks open, revealing Freld and five guards. 

“510601, get over here”, Freld commands, her eyes on Keith. 

With an almost invisible sigh Keith turns around and walks over, wondering what kind of trouble he was in now. Maybe those anti-Keiths (heh) had finally found him. 

Freld takes the lead, with two guards on Keith’s sides, one on his front and one on his back. The fifth one has a long distance blaster and he walks a distance behind them. 

Keith figures it’s better not to try and escape now. He has a churn of curiosity to see where he is being taken to. 

He is lead into a new part of the area, locked behind a few doors and confusing hallways. Keith’s probably being led through some odd route so he doesn’t find his way back if he decides to run away later. 

He appreciates the thought put into it.

They finally reach a hallway with a few doors, one of them covered by two galra. No, two half-galra.

Their uniforms aren’t standard. One of them is tall and bulky, with wide set ears and scars. The other one is smaller, pink. Her form is a bit more on ease then the big one’s. 

“We’ll take it from here, general Freld”, the big one says, facing Frelds squinting eyes without flinching. 

“Fine. But I will wait here until it is over”, Freld demands, standing aside to let Keith to the two half-galra. 

“Of course”, the big one says. 

When Keith steps to them the smaller girl winks at him before pushing open the door, confusingly not a sliding one but a manual one. 

Inside is a table. On the end furthest from the door sits a man, white hair cascading down his shoulders. His eyes are closed and his expression is unreadable, facing the table. 

Behind him stand two more half-galra, both dressed in that weird uniform. The other one of them is wearing a hood, but Keith can see their emotionless face. A cat stands on her shoulder, it’s gaze burning holes into Keith the second he steps into the room. The other one is a blue skinned woman, a hand resting on her hip, where she has a small blaster. 

There is a second chair on Keith’s end of the table, pulled out as if for him to sit. 

Keith doesn’t sit. 

“Keith Kogane, prisoner code 510601”, the man says, looking up at Keith, moving from the hunched position to a one where he sits straight, attentive eyes focused on Keith. 

And Keith finally recognizes him. 

“Prince Lotor”, Keith says, bowing slightly. 

When he looks back to Lotor he can find no emotion on the man’s face. His eyes study Keith, sending shivers through him. 

“The witch took great care in hiding you for the last deca-phoeb. This is the mistake she made, revealing you to me”, Lotor speaks. 

His voice is deep and accented oddly, but it somehow suits the prince. He clearly has carefully chosen his words. 

“I believe Haggar did not intend to reveal me to you, Lotor”, Keith begins, but is interrupted by one of the generals. 

“Treat Prince Lotor with respect and address him with the right terms, prisoner”, she says, clasping her blaster. 

“Acxa, please”, Lotor says, glancing at his general. Acxa pulls back with the words, but keeps a hateful glare. “Excuse her. You may address me however you wish”, Lotor says, offering Keith a shake of his hand. 

“As I was saying”, Keith continues, not looking at Acxa “Haggar’s plan was to keep me. My plan was not to stay”, Keith explains, tilting his head. 

Lotor chuckles, letting his face show some emotion. 

“I am not surprised by this. And now I have found you, Keith”, Lotor says, looking into Keith’s eyes. “Ever since you became… known, I have been searching for you”, Lotor says, small wrinkles appearing to the corners of his eyes. They add something to his face Keith likes more than the plastic face Lotor had worn before.

“Why’s that?” Keith asks, fiddling with his hands. He holds them behind his back, out of sight. He still has his knife, hidden between his shoulder blades. 

“I… have a very specific set of generals. All of us are half-galra, a tight group of professionals. And I have been looking for a new addition to our team”, Lotor explains, offering Keith a turn of lips. 

“And for whatever reason you decided I would be a fitting candidate”, Keith finishes, smiling. 

“Exactly.” 

There is a moment of silence as Keith carefully picks his next words. 

“You are aware that I am not with the Galra Empire?” 

“Of course.”

“You understand that I murdered an entire ship of soldiers and only got caught because one of them was lucky?” 

“Naturally.” 

“And you still want me to be one of your generals.” 

Lotor sighs, moving to stand up as well. Keith has a natural reaction of taking a step back, but he stays still. 

“You do know what that implies?” Keith asks, scrunching his eyebrows. Lotor doesn’t answer, just looks at Keith with a natural expression. 

“You can inspect those implications if you wish. The reason for this meeting is clear, however. I want to recruit you. There will be some steps included in the process, but in the end, you will be made into my general”, Lotor says, now walking around the table to stand in front of Keith. 

Keith stares at the prince, baffled. Keith doesn’t know much about him: only the basics if he were to be the one to take over after Zarkon is eventually gone. Keith doesn’t know Lotor’s past. He doesn’t know his motivation, his values. 

But what Keith does know is his own values. 

Lotor stands close now and offers his hand for a shake. His expression is so sure of himself, like Keith has already agreed. Like the first stage is already over. 

“No.” 

Lotor dares to look surprised for a second. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I said no, Lotor”, Keith says, now smiling at Lotor, who quickly schools his expression back to neutral. 

“Why would you decline? I’m sure being in my service is better than this Arena”, Lotor says, not daring to do anything but keep his hand up. Keith enjoys the… worry he has awakened in the prince. 

“I am a person who values other things then his life. If you had actually done your research, dived into things far, far, under the surface, you’d know I will never accept. Whether or not you are with your father does not matter. I am against the Empire. I want to see it fall. And, pardon me if I am wrong, you do not. You only want to change it”, Keith explains, searching for any indication of his words being right or wrong in the prince’s eyes. There, deep in them, Keith finds a flame of anger. 

It satisfies his need to aggravate the prince. 

“With that said, yes, I would rather rot away down here then be in your cute little gang”, Keith finishes, feeling more smug than ever before. 

The room falls into silence. Keith and Lotor have a stare off, both of the men studying each other. 

“Haggar sent me here because she thought I would chicken out. She took a huge risk in doing so. But this round is a point for her”, Keith remarks. 

Finally Lotor cracks. 

“Leave”, he hisses, anger the most prominent feature on his face. 

“As you wish”, Keith says, barely containing his laughter. He offers Lotor a sarcastic bow and turns around, pulling open the door. 

The smaller general at the door looks excited for a moment, but when she sees it’s Keith who comes out, not Lotor, her excitement falls. 

Freld on the other hand looks joyful as ever. Keith offers her a smirk as he walks to her and the guards. Freld is surprised but clearly satisfied with getting to keep perhaps the Empire’s most wanted for herself. 

“See you later, Lotor”, Keith calls back, glancing back to see the prince stand in the doorway, angry. “Or maybe not. Bye”, Keith says, not failing to keep the smirk off his face. 

Freld doesn’t contain her laughter as they walk away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, this is much shorter than the previous one but I feel like this interaction deserves it's own chapter. 
> 
> Keith pissing off Lotor is something I personally encourage. And I will continue doing it;)


	10. Protective mothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krolia is pretty damn worried

Krolia is pretty damn worried when Keith finally has a chance to talk to her. She tries to send angry waves to his direction, but she has never been good at hiding her feelings. Even now Keith can’t properly believe her anger. 

When Keith informs Krolia of the offer he was given Krolia sends strong curse words his direction. 

“That -- I should’ve -- something -- this -- happen”, Krolia cusses, actually trying to speak to Keith. 

Keith only laughs, not really sure why Krolia is so shaken about it. 

“I declined it anyway”, he sends back, hoping Krolia hears the important part. 

The feelings of approval come back to him and Keith has to smile, asking Krolia how he should continue. 

-

Keith doesn’t waste time gathering himself a reputation. His hands don’t stop shaking before battle, and he once makes the fatal mistake of trying to attack, which leads to him getting almost killed. 

The only way for him to win is by self-defense, but it doesn’t stop the nightmares after the match. Keith doesn’t see a way to stop his reaction: it’s not like they’re offered therapy or anything. 

Luckily he always fights Haggar’s monsters. Keith is yet to be faced with an another prisoner, always just Haggar’s experiments. He doesn’t know who to thank for it and he doesn’t want to know what would happen if he did have to face someone. 

Keith thinks he’s free of the witch. Maybe she’d forgotten about him? Deemed him unsuited for the next experiments? 

Keith is fine with fighting in the Arena. After Bali, Haggar’s beasts seem boring, almost mundane. None of them have the same kind of consciousness as she had. None of the same rage or hatred. They are all just beasts, forced or trained by Haggar and the druids. 

Killing such beasts doesn’t make Keith a murderer, he tells himself. He killed the galra because he had to defend himself… right? 

Keith hears nothing from Haggar for a phoeb. That’s how long it takes for Keith to finally decide Haggar has given up on him. That he doesn’t have to worry about the witch anymore. 

Of course, he is wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A super short chapter for today -- I felt like this needed to be it's own thing, separate from the next chapter. That one will be a beast on it's own, I promise.


	11. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The galra don’t have shapeshifting abilities”, Keith says, scrunching his eyebrows. 
> 
> “No, they don’t”, Haggar says and turns away, leaving Keith there, with her blood flowing steadily into his veins.

When Haggar calls him to her Keith grits his teeth. He is being escorted by five guards, all of them heavily armed with all sorts of weapons and heavy armory. The situation is much more formal than what it was with Lotor, Freld nowhere to be seen. When they’d walked into their bunk room Hale had almost fallen of the bed. 

Keith knew who they were coming for without confirmation. 

They lead him away from the prison cells, through a hallway with closed doors, almost every single one holding some kind of monster judging by the sounds. Keith has never felt so sensitive with his hearing. 

Finally they leave him in front of a double-doored room. The hinges shine through with bright purple light, the source flickering occasionally. 

Keith somehow knows it is not his time to enter. Instead, he stands there. There is nobody around, no guards, no druids. Just the empty hallway filled with doors and Keith, standing in the middle of it all. 

His whole body screams for escape. His whole body shakes, not just his hands. There’s a drop of sweat rolling down the side of his face but Keith doesn’t move to wipe it off. He fears, that if he moves now, he explodes from tension. 

The empty hallway calls for him, telling him to follow it away from here. From the flickering room and banging monsters. 

But something in Keith’s gut tells him Haggar would never leave him like this, with a chance to escape. So he stays and waits for the flicker to stop. It eerily reminds him of Macidus and his mapping activities, sending shivers through Keith’s back. He suddenly longs for his knife, safely hidden inside his mattress.

The flickering stops and Keith’s veins grow cold as he waits, ears drawn back and fingers twitching for his knife’s old place, as it once rested against his hip. 

Keith isn’t calm enough to send anything that makes sense to Krolia, but he tries to send waves of distress and confusion to her, hoping she will pick them up and try to reach out. His hair stands on edge as he waits for anything to happen, for Krolia to answer or for the door to open.

The door opens, agonizingly slow, as Keith’s breath quickens. 

They reveal a large room behind them, every wall covered in quintessence containers, some glowing yellow and some purple. There is equipment scattered all around the room, ranging from all different kinds of devices and calculators to things as simple as chains or a muzzle. 

In the middle of it all is a table, like a surgeon’s table, lit up by a strong lamp. Haggar stands beside it, hands limply on her sides. 

They both are in silence for a long moment, neither moving or speaking, just sizing each other up. 

“You killed my achievement”, Haggar finally sighs, sounding mildly attacked.

Keith winces.

“Achievement? What are you talking about?” Keith hisses, twitching his ears in frustration. 

Haggar doesn’t seem surprised by Keith’s words. Instead she changes the subject like Keith hadn’t said anything at all. 

“Come over here and lay down.” 

“And if I don’t?” 

Haggar looks from whatever she was fiddling with to Keith, clearly disappointed at his bickering.

“I can make sure one of your… friends dies during their next battle. Who would you like to go first? The other half-galra? The small thing?”

Keith winches and slowly moves over to Haggar, cautiously laying down on the table, the hard surface hurting his already aching muscles.

“So what are you up to this time?” Keith asks as Haggar ties restraints around his ankles and wrists, tying them tight enough to surely leave some kind of mark. 

“You’ll find out sooner or later”, Haggar answers. 

Then she fetches a bag of something. Something Keith could recognize in his sleep. 

It’s blood. It may have small splatters of gold between the red, but Keith knows blood when he sees it.

Keith watches in silence as Haggar attaches it to some kind of machine and plucks a needle into his vein. Keith watches as drops of blood fall out of the back, into the tube connected with his arm, turning it red. 

“So what, you’re injecting me with something? Quintessence enhanced blood?” Keith asks, feeling around his body for any changes. 

“It is my blood.” 

Haggar’s blunt answer causes Keith to freeze. His eyes trail from the blood to Haggar, barely grasping at what’s in front of him. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I am injecting you with my blood. It caused interesting effects on the previous subject, and now that I’ve compared your medical records and blood samples I’d say the other non-galra half of you is some kind of quintessence sensitive race. But you eliminated my subject, which is quite unfortunate,” Haggar explains, looking at a screen displaying all sorts of info on Keith’s vitals. 

Bali. Keith twists with anger but can’t move to do anything about it, so he settles to glaring at the witch.

 

“The galra don’t have shapeshifting abilities”, Keith says, scrunching his eyebrows. 

“No, they don’t”, Haggar says and turns away, leaving Keith there, with her blood flowing steadily into his veins. 

-

Everything burns. Keith feels like bursting out of his own skin. He wants to be a statue but feels like a puddle on the floor. 

He struggles against the straps holding him in his place. 

He screams out for anyone’s help. 

He whimpers in pain and passes out multiple times from pain but nightmares of stretched and unrecognizable faces accompanied with wicked grins awoken him.

The pain has no end, no. It keeps on coming and coming, tearing him apart piece by piece. Keith wishes he could escape. Hell, death is better than this.

His senses are drowned out by quintessence. There’s quintessence everywhere: around him, inside him. It flows through his veins and muddles his mind with simple thoughts. 

Kill. Kill and everything will be fine. 

But Keith doesn’t want to kill anymore. He has killed too many, so many. Too many faces to remember. Faces he never saw. People he never knew. Names he never learned. 

So Keith drowns out the thoughts. Buries them deep within him in a chest and throws away the key. For a moment he thinks the chest will break apart, the urge inside shaking the cover and struggling to get out. Keith wants to back away but how can he back away from something inside him. 

But the pain continues on, now only without a tempting way out. 

Keith doesn’t want to feel it anymore, he doesn’t want the pain. But everything is black. Keith doesn’t know if his eyes are open or closed, if he is dead or alive. 

He doesn’t know if he even is anything anymore. 

Keith loses track of time. The burn isn’t a burn anymore, more like just heat. Like putting your hand too close to the campfire or reading a book next to a fireplace. He doesn’t feel his restraints anymore. He doesn’t feel the table’s cold surface anymore: it’s like he’s floating in space, without being limited with gravity or space. 

With that limitation gone, Keith stretches out. And by stretching out he means expanding, like an explosion. Whatever it is that he does is completely inhuman, something he has never felt before. It is like he has unlimited mass, unlimited space. His fingers grow as tall as his body, his legs grow to be twice their original length. Keith can’t stop a laugh from escaping his lips: this is fun! 

Something in Keith’s soul calms as he shapeshifts. A burning need to stretch out disappears, only leaving behind the pleasant feeling of sore muscles. Keith tones down the transformations, now only enjoying the feeling of floating with a fulfilled mind. He doesn’t think of anything at all: he is by himself, completely. 

He feels like someone else should be there. He’s not quite sure who - no one turns up in his memory when he thinks about it. 

Well, nothing else turns up in his memory anyway. Vague images sometimes, but nothing clear enough to be called a memory.

The space around him turns and at some point he finds the floor, the bottom of his feet hitting it with a soft thump. That thump is like a bucket of cold water: it wakes Keith from his trance-like state, bringing back his memories in a flush. He realizes that he’s completely naked. 

But even if he can feel and see the ground, walls are still somewhere far out of his reach. So for now, he lays on the hard floor and thinks of things. Like whether or not Meeri or Hale are still alive. He wishes for clothes, tries to make his body into some, but he fails miserably, just making himself more muscular. 

Alive… seems like Keith’s definition of alive used to be very different. He didn’t realize how caged he was in his old body. When he was incapable of morphing like this. 

The shapeshifting reminds Keith of a tale he heard once. Of an ancient people, whom are long gone now. The alteans. They were diplomats, explorers, capable of changing their appearance to fit in with what they were researching. The alteans tampered with alchemy, with quintessence. 

Keith wonders if Haggar is altean.

Slowly his surroundings clear. The fire is gone now, leaving only a normal warm body behind. The walls and ceiling appear. A door appears. 

Keith can vaguely remember standing outside Haggar’s lab that day. 

When Haggar walks in through the door Keith stands, not taking his eyes off the woman. 

“Have you enjoyed yourself enough?” the witch asks, sounding amused. 

“How long have I been in this room?” Keith counters. 

Haggar is quiet for a while. Keith starts doubting if he’ll ever get an answer. They just stand there, looking at the other. 

Then, she lowers her hood. 

Haggar isn’t purple like Keith remembered. Her skin is light brown, resembling something like a darker shade of Keith’s father’s skin tone. Her eyes aren’t yellow, like what Keith has seen glimpses of, but white with dark irises. 

She looks human, but with red, sharp markings going down the sides of her face.

“Tell me, have you heard of alteans?” 

Three questions, none answered. The two stand in silence, Keith taking in Haggar’s look. 

“You’re an altean.” Haggar nods to the statement, confirming Keith’s suspicions. “And you injected me with altean blood.”

“I didn’t expect it to react this… wildly. Even with Bali she only had small changes to her outlook. She had to learn how to use the ability. But you quite literally exploded out of your skin. I had to teleport you here so you wouldn’t break my lab”, Haggar speaks, pulling her hood back up. Keith can see the purple returning, like a spreading ink. 

“So you injected Bali with your blood too?” Keith asks, trying to ignore the fact that he still has yet to get any clothes. 

“Yes.” 

They are in silence again, as Keith wonders whether or not to start yelling at Haggar. Haggar keeps quiet, letting Keith think. 

“Would you like to look into a mirror?” Haggar suddenly asks, shattering the silence.

Keith is unable to control himself and his voice picks up: “A mirror?” 

Haggar almost smiles. “Yes. When was the last time you saw yourself?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Then it’s settled. Follow me.”

Keith shivers. Haggar’s voice has a strange tone to it, making her sound oddly soft. She never before spoke to him that way. 

But he ignores the countless questions in favor of a mirror.

-

Keith almost doesn’t recognize himself when he sees the mirror. As far as he could recall he is a lanky, teenager-looking small galran with sharp eyes and something the other blades call a mullet. 

The man who stares back at him through the mirror is no lanky teenager.

Keith’s shoulders have widened and grown more muscle. He’s pretty sure he’s taller than before and his body is littered in scars, so many that Keith is almost unable to remember them all. He can vaguely remember gaining them, but he’s not sure.

The most noticeable ones are the lightning-like stripes on his spine and a vertical line over the bridge of his nose. 

Keith’s hair hangs low, all the way to his back, covering Macidus’ scars. His bangs are overly long, covering up his eyes. 

His eyes. They look galran, just as before, but they have a tint to them. Something that Keith can’t place at first, but with a little shapeshifting he realizes that they’ve lightened to a softer yellow, highlighting the slits of his irises more. 

Haggar creeps in the background and offers Keith a prisoner uniform. 

“You probably want to go back to the arena?” Haggar asks as Keith dresses, pulling on the new uniform. 

“What does it matter to you?” Keith asks, trying to fit into the sleeves without ripping them. He might end up tearing a lot of these apart with this newfound strength. 

Haggar sighs: “I can’t help it. With my blood in your veins we’re connected. I feel a need to protect you, like my own child.” 

Keith winces a the thought. “I am not your child.” 

“I know.” 

Keith has dressed up now. They stand in an another silence, neither speaking a word. The tension is high, making Keith’s fur stand on edge. 

“Return me to the Arena, please.” 

Haggar doesn’t answer, just turns around and walks out the door. 

Keith sees it fit to follow. 

-

When Keith returns he notices many things, like the concerning amount of prisoners and the cold air, but no one notices him, way too occupied in whatever they’re doing.

He manages to get all the way to his bunk unnoticed. Everyone is so focused on eating their meals they barely notice him as he walks to his and Meeri’s bunks.

Speaking of Meeri, they are laying on his bunk, covered in pillows and blankets. A sorrowful expression has taken over their face. They’re slowly eating soup, sniffling in between every spoonful. 

Keith walks to the bed and his height is even more clear now, as before he had to jump to see like this. Now he could calmly stand there, his head on par with Meeri’s knees, rest of their feet dangling off the edge. 

Keith pokes her leg and puts on a sour expression. 

“You’re in my bunk.” 

And the room turns into chaos. 

Keith is enveloped in big blue arms and small green ones, both Hale and Meeri hugging him. He’s pretty sure he can hear cheering or clapping but he won’t bet on it. 

“You’re alive, you’re alive”, Hale mutters, hands tight around his shoulders. 

“We thought you were gone for good”, Meeri whispers to his other ear, sounding like on the verge of crying. 

“How long was I gone, then?” Keith asks, unable to stop the smile spreading across his face. 

“A month, precisely”, Hale answers, pulling back. 

There are tears in the corner of his eye. The other eye has a scar across it, blinding the whole eye. 

“What happened? You look great, by the way,” Hale adds, sizing Keith up. 

Previously Keith could reach up to Hale’s biceps but now he is almost the same height, able to not have to look up to meet the other’s eyes.

“I could ask you the same”, Keith responded, offering Hale a sorry expression. 

“It was just a tough fight. I wish I could go through a mystery transformation and look as hot as you do now”, Hale admits, seemingly immediately regretting his words and scratches the back of his head.

Keith and Meeri both laugh at him and Keith is suddenly filled with warmth. 

The moment is disturbed by someone.

“So this is the Keith you were talking about?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah this is a big one -- and someone new! Who could it possibly be ;D
> 
> There will be a new POV in the next one or two chapters!


	12. A new challenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How can someone look so intimidating yet adorable at the same time?

The half-galra looks different than what Shiro originally had in mind. From Hale and Meeri’s explanation he gathered them to be more of a twink than what is standing there in front of him. 

Keith is tall, maybe not for a galra, but for a human, probably about the same height as Shiro. He has a long mop of black hair and tired-looking eyes, colored the normal galra-yellow. He has a scar across the bridge of his nose and Shiro doesn’t need to be sure to know that scars much like that one are all over his body. 

Keith carries himself with a sense of purpose. Even the head tilt he sends Shiro’s way is a graceful one and a bit of his hair falls from his shoulders, Shiro’s eyes following the lock like a cat a laser. 

“And you are?” Keith asks, raising an eyebrow. 

Cat like, that’s what he is, Shiro realizes. His fluffy ears do not help the impression, nor do his slitted pupils.

“I uhh”, Shiro manages to utter, scratching at the back of his neck. 

How can someone look so intimidating yet adorable at the same time? 

“This is Shiro!” Meeri comes in, the saving grace. “He got transferred to our group for some reason. I don’t know why”, Meeri continues, moving their hands as they speak.

Keith seems to have an idea, like a flash in his eyes. Shiro doesn’t know if the others notice, but he does. Keith doesn’t elaborate on it further, however, his perfectly-shaped eyebrows just scrunching. 

“Yeah that’s right”, Shiro says.

Keith shrugs and climbs up to the bed, nudging Meeri aside by a bit. She squeals in disappointment but shifts her balance, only to a moment later lean back on Keith, humming with content. Keith grunts but doesn’t shove her away, making Hale chuckle. 

The scene is oddly domestic, awakening a sting of longing in Shiro’s chest. He hasn’t had anything like it for quite some time. The distant memory of Adam is like a memory from an another life, somewhere far away, in an another universe. 

“So, how did you end up in the arena?” Keith asks nonchalantly, laying back so only his feet are visible, dangling limply over the edge. 

“I was captured on an off-planet mission close to Earth”, Shiro answers, resisting the urge to touch Keith’s feet. The small swing the half-galra had put to them slows for a fraction of a second before continuing again. 

“So you’re from Earth?” Keith asks. Shiro isn’t so sure of the small tremble in his voice. 

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t receive an answer. Both Meeri and Hale look confused, Meeri shrugging and Hale raising his eyebrows in surprise. 

“Is everything alright, Keith?” Meeri asks, turning to look to Keith. Shiro’s not sure what Keith mouths back but Meeri nods and hops off the bed, sending concerned glances to Hale. 

Hale stops and looks at Keith, concern playing on his face. Then he turns to Shiro and shrugs, following Meeri to his bunk. 

Shiro sees it fit to follow, not eager to see what the aura of despair around Keith is about.

-

Keith hears Shiro, Hale and Meeri talk. They speak like old friends, when Shiro hasn’t been here for as long as Keith. 

He feels a sting in his chest. 

And immediately pushes it away. Hale and Meeri will both disappear from his life eventually anyway. They will all die, so it really doesn’t matter how far in they abandon him like everyone else. 

Krolia left him physically years ago to pursuit the deep undercover mission she was granted and now she has left him mentally as well. 

Keith scrunches his eyebrows and tries to ping to Krolia again but she’s distant, carefully making sure Keith is only vaguely aware of something on the edges of his consciousness. It stings: it would be about time to tell Krolia everything that has happened. About Shiro, the first human Keith has seen in person. A worry washes over Keith. What if the Empire got to Earth? Is his dad alive anymore?

To pass time Keith stretches his fingers, changing them a bit longer than normal and shrinking them back to normal or even shorter. He doesn’t have the courage to do anything bigger right now, even if he could. 

A part of him doesn’t want to tell Hale and Meeri. An old part of him wants to show off and reveal his ability during a match. Keith had thought he’d gotten rid of the urge a long time ago, yet it still rings in the back of his head, accompanied by a pang of jealousy. Jealousy of Shiro, who so easily seems to have replaced Keith. Jealousy of the three of them, who have each other. Keith doesn’t know if he has anyone anymore.

Keith is frustrated by it. The jealousy makes him feel disgusted about himself. This is not proper, he shouldn’t be so worked up about it. 

Keith wishes he could be someone like Kolivan, able to hide their feelings. Instead he is here, trying to sulk away.

So instead of figuring it out he decides to nap, and well, he’s out like a lamp, exhaustion from trying to reach Krolia and his rabid changes during the last month weighing him down.

His dreams are purely chaotic, filled with altering shapes and confusing images. Nothing seems to make sense in the slightest. 

Keith sees faces he can barely even recognize. Kolivan, speaking calmly about something. Krolia, giving Keith one last hug before walking away to perhaps never return. 

Most of the faces were of people he’d killed. Bali, that officer, all of those soldiers at the ship. 

They are all mouthing the same thing, which is just background noise at first, but then grows into something louder by every second. 

_“Die… die die die… diE DIE DIE DIE”_

The chant is demonic, made up of every voice Keith has ever heard. It fills Keith’s mind, forbidding him of any other thoughts. He’s drowning in the sound, practically seeing the three letters in front of his eyes. He presses his hands down on his ears but the sound doesn’t stop. The chant is pressed into his mind with thick lettering, glowing white in the darkness. 

Then he starts hearing the voices of people he knows. His family, his… friends? Does Keith have friends anymore? 

_“I wish you’d never been born.”_

_“It was a simple mission and you screwed up royally.”_

_“Your father didn’t want to keep you so he pushed you to me. I don’t want to keep you either, though. I wish you’d just die.”_

_“It hurts so much. I did nothing wrong.”_

_“I’ve taken your place. Now you’re all alone, just like you deserve.”_

The words are clear at first but slowly they stack up, becoming a sound similar to a bee’s nest. Keith tries everything he can think of, from clawing out his ears to screaming over the noise but nothing helps, leaving him with a bloody face and heavy breaths.

_“Come to Mother.”_

-

Shiro watches as Keith jumps up from his shaky sleep, hitting his ears on the ceiling. Keith is breathing heavily, his arms shaking. 

The last bits of his hesitance are wiped away by the sheer terror Shiro can see gleam in Keith’s eyes. Shiro has never seen such expressive galra eyes, more resembling human ones. 

But even if Keith is only half-galra there is no possible way he’s half human. The galra have never been to Earth, right?

“Nightmare?” Shiro asks, moving closer to the bunk. Keith turns to look at him, surprised. 

“None of your business”, he hisses, drawing his ears back. 

“I know nightmares can be tough”, Shiro continues, not caring for Keith’s protests. “I like to remind myself afterwards that they were just dreams, nothing else”, Shiro says, stepping forward. “Hugging a blanket can also help.” 

Keith looks at Shiro with a blank expression. Shiro refuses to back down, offering Keith his blanket upon noticing that he has none. 

“I don’t want your help, human”, Keith sneers, falling back to his mattress. “Go to someone else to gauge your need of care taking”, Keith mutters, curling up on himself and shutting his eyes close, turning his back to Shiro. 

Keith can’t be much older than Shiro, yet he acts like he’s twelve. It would humor Shiro some other time, but not when Keith is still shaking and barely managing to keep his voice steady, obvious no matter how much Keith tries to hide it. 

“Don’t be stubborn. You sound like a child”, Shiro chuckles. 

“Maybe I will stop sounding like one when you stop treating me like one”, Keith shoots back, flicking his ear in irritation. “Good night, Shiro.” 

Shiro only huffs and sets the blanket over Keith anyway, making sure the parts he can see are covered properly. Keith doesn’t protest it, acting like he has fallen asleep. 

Shiro returns to his bed, not bothering to search for a new blanket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo boy it's been a while! I was busy with a few things and unable to post due to being separated from my computer by too many kilometers for comfort. Now, I wonder, why I just didn't take it with me. 
> 
> There may or may not be chapters next week. I am unsure as of now.


	13. Soft talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking to Shiro drains Keith out and soon he’s softly snoring, leaning on the other man’s shoulder. Shiro receives a dirty look from Hale in the process but it doesn’t really matter.

Keith wants to scream. He just fought something very close to a quiznacking dragon. It had even breathed fire and had huge wings, even if the creature was somehow not flying, thank the ancients.

He had won, in the end, but with a cost of too many burn scars to count. He feels like he is still on fire, about half-melting. 

Shiro looks at him from the other bunk with a pitiful expression. Keith is slowly growing hatred for the human, who is just infuriatingly understanding and kind. Keith has the urge to crush that kindness but quickly drowns the need out, wishing to have never even thought about it. 

Shiro is probably the most innocent but also the one of the most broken things here. 

Keith can see traces of the druids, ranging from a metal arm to scars, both mental and physical. He even manages to sneak a look at Shiro’s back, but the human doesn’t have any scarring on his back like Keith does. Instead, Shiro’s back is littered with small nicks and cuts like on almost every other place on his skin. Keith doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or not. 

And currently that skin is enjoying zero injury day, when Keith is full body wrapped in bandages. Keith’s surprised that they didn’t give him one of those cones some galrans give their pets when they’re not supposed to lick themselves. 

Keith tries to shuffle but just grunts in pain, moving back to his sitting position. Everything hurts, even if according to the medics he is healing unbelievably fast. 

Keith just feels like someone had made him walk through a room with every surface on fire.

Hale tries to entertain everyone by telling them very glorified stories but he doesn’t get that same effect as Thace used to. 

Meeri tries to help Keith with his injuries but Ulaz could’ve done better, even under these conditions. 

Shiro keeps on a silent watch, occasionally laughing at Hale’s story, yet his watch doesn’t feel as solid as Kolivan’s. 

Keith has no one to hen over him like his mom used to. 

And he is hit by a wave of homesickness. He realizes that he’s probably been gone for over a year now. 

The others probably only know he’s alive only because of the Arena. 

Keith realizes that they will most likely never come for him. The risk is too large for only one agent like him. And even if they did come, it would probably just be a suicide mission. 

So Keith moves, despite the ache of his muscles, and holds his knees close to his chest. What he could do to see a blade right now. He wishes he could see his roommates, Jalek and Rone. Both of the men never failed to cheer him up on his bad days, no matter what. 

Keith remembers their faces only vaguely. Jalek had big, yellow eyes, usually round. When he started to lose his temper they would always go thinner and thinner until he had two yellow slits on his purple face. Rone had an intricate pattern of stripes, coming from the other half of him. Keith can never remember the name of the species, as it is as complicated as the paintings on their skin. 

If Keith could go back he would stop himself from going on that mission. He should’ve just let some more experienced blade do it. Someone who wouldn’t lose their patience or forget caution. 

Someone who wouldn’t make the same mistakes as Keith did. 

If he’d done that, he would probably be home. He hadn’t thought of the headquarters as home, until now. Even when the Blades always felt a bit cold, there was that small community there. 

It was first broken by Thace and Krolia, both of them leaving to go undercover. It was easier for them to go together, so their stories could be linked and they could be in touch with each other without raising suspicion. The two leaving has just created a big hole that no one stepped in to fill.

Even if Keith was left drifting the base always had something to do. Kolivan always had advice to give. Ulaz always had something to get Keith to do, whether it was organizing shelves or running errands. 

Keith didn’t mind being an errand boy when it gave him a purpose other than sulking around and missing his mother.

Keith missed home. He hadn’t before, not this bad. He’d always been preoccupied with trying to not die that he’d completely missed out on missing home. 

“Hey”, Shiro suddenly said, making Keith jump. He hadn’t noticed the human’s approach. 

“What do you want?” Keith asks, not in the mood for Shiro’s bullshit. 

“You look like you miss home”, Shiro says, offering Keith one of his signature knowing smiles. 

Keith doesn’t answer, just glares at the human angrily. He doesn’t know why Shiro always knows what he’s thinking about, but it is annoying as hell. Maybe in some other timeline he could appreciate the attempt at trying to befriend Keith and give friendly advice, yet now he just doesn’t care.

“Listen, I know what it’s like to miss home but… I like to think of home as a people, not a place”, Shiro says quietly, like a secret between the two of them. 

“And how is that going to help?” Keith remarks, not wanting to admit that it is exactly what he thinks as well. 

“Well, let’s face it. We’re never getting out of here. So maybe you could call these people your home”, Shiro says, smiling. 

“We’re all going to die, Shiro.” 

“I have a feeling that wherever you came from, that is nothing out of the normal.” 

Keith’s eyes widen and he gulps, realizing that the human is right. 

Shiro’s reaction is appropriate for the situation: after all the half-galra hasn’t shown this much emotion apart from pure hatred since he’s been here. Shiro freezes, a spark of interest in his eyes, like surprised that he is indeed, correct.

Keith buries his head in his knees as Hale makes some good joke, causing the room to explode to laughs. 

“Keith?” Shiro asks, and Keith can feel his breaths ghosting the tips of his ears. Quiznack.

“I haven’t missed them until now… even when I’ve been gone for long, I haven’t missed them much. But now… I want to be with them.” 

“The others remind you of them?” 

“The others aren’t even close to what they used to be.” 

Shiro is quiet for a moment before he climbs up to the top bunk, shaking the bed a bit. Keith looks up from his coiled position. He follows Shiro’s movements closely as the other settles beside him. 

“Tell me about them?” 

Keith sighs and wonders, if Shiro is worth of his trust. 

“Well… I have a really close family. My mom and her brother are probably the most important. There’s also my uncle’s boyfriend and my mom’s… well I’m not quite sure if they’re together or not. I guess they dance around the issue a lot. Then there are two other galra who are like siblings to me.” 

“What about your dad?” 

“He’s on Earth. Mom wasn’t able to bring him along… and I don’t think she loves him anymore. Or she’s more interested in the new guy.” Keith mutters, thinking of all of the lingering gazes Krolia sent Kolivan’s way. 

“What do you think about that?” Shiro asks, managing to contain his surprise about Keith being half human.

“Well it’s understandable. We probably won’t return to Earth. Better to find someone new then rot in despair”, Keith huffs, playing with his hair. 

“What about your... uncle? His boyfriend?” 

“Oh they’re disgustingly adorable. They’re constantly either bickering or acting lovey-dovey. It’s almost sickening. Or were.” 

Shiro chuckles, but asks more seriously: “What happened?” 

“My mom and uncle left to go on deep undercover missions. I know that my capture compromised my mom’s position but I don’t know about my uncle”, Keith explains, unsure why he’s even talking to Shiro about this. Anyone could listen in and Thace would be compromised soon as well.

But there’s something trustworthy about Shiro, even if the human is disgustingly understanding.

“What about you?” Keith asks, suddenly wanting to divert the conversation away from his suspicious family. 

“Well”, Shiro starts but stops to think. “I was almost married back on Earth… but when I decided to go on that mission he didn’t want me to go and we broke up.” 

“What does married mean?” Keith asks, tilting his head. 

“Do the galra not have marriage?” 

“I dunno. Explain it to me and I’ll tell you.” 

“Well marriage is when two people are in love and decide to be together. Or, well, they’ve been together for a while and decide to… make it more official? It’s surprisingly hard to explain”, Shiro laughs, scratching his head. 

“That sounds like bonding”, Keith mutters.

“What’s bonding?” Shiro asks. 

“Well, when two galra in love want to tie their relationship they form a mental bond. Galra have strong mental bonds, allowing two galra to even talk to each other. Anyone can, in theory, form these bonds, but usually it is done by two close family members. The bond is automatic between a mother and their eldest child, but possible to be made to multiple galra at the same time”, Keith explains, thinking about his bond with his mother, which has grown cold.

“Sounds a bit like marriage. How early into a relationship do people bond? Is it to prove the relationship or to further it?” 

“Well that entirely depends.” 

“You see, marriage is a thing for couples who’ve been together for long and want to deepen their relationship. People go from boyfriend to husband and from girlfriend to wife.” 

“Oh. Well I guess the normal people don’t have that. We do that if we want to crown an Empress or an Emperor.” 

“Really? Is there an Empress?” Shiro asks, his interest peaking. 

“No. Zarkon seems to keep the power to himself. Totally his style though. They rumor his Empress died a long time ago. During the first war.”

“What’s the first war?” 

Keith groans and hides his face behind his palms. 

“The war against the alteans? The whole thing with Voltron and the quintessence field?”

Shiro looks clueless and Keith sighs, long and hard. 

“Looks like we’re in for a history lesson.”

-

Talking to Shiro drains Keith out and soon he’s softly snoring, leaning on the other man’s shoulder. Shiro receives a dirty look from Hale in the process but it doesn’t really matter. 

Keith’s like a cat, ears and all. Shiro is afraid to move a muscle, terrified that the half galra will wake up and break the moment with his antics. 

Shiro moves his arm from Keith’s shoulder to his hair, softly touching the mop of black hair. He gasps at the softness of it. Shiro is a bit afraid of touching the ears so he makes sure not to brush against them as he pets and brushes Keith’s hair with his fingers, marveling the soft texture. 

There aren’t many knots but Shiro has noticed Keith’s way of combing through it with his fingers. Shiro is thankful for his own short style, keeping knots out of the hair. 

Hale keeps sending jealous glares but Shiro ignores him over looking at Keith. His bangs cover some of the view but Shiro can see a bit of Keith’s relaxed expression. The eternal frown has disappeared, leaving space for something much more calm and soothing. The lack of scrunched eyebrows and fiery eyes makes Keith seem much friendlier and a bit younger. 

Shiro sort of likes it. He is left curious, what would Keith look like genuinely happy, maybe laughing at some joke or looking at someone he loves. 

Suddenly he has this urge to find out what Keith would look like in a situation like that. Would his sharp eyes soften? Would his lips curl into a small or a big smile? Would he lose the tension in his shoulders? 

Keith’s ear flicks and Shiro pulls his hand away, as if he’d never even been close to Keith’s hair.

Keith’s eyes flutter open and he yawns, pulling his ears back. Shiro is again starkly reminded of a cat, which makes a small smile dance along his lips. 

“Had a good nap?” Shiro asks nonchalantly, moving his arm off of Keith. 

“You know what? Yes I did. Especially that thing you did with my hair was nice”, Keith remarks, sliding Shiro a sly smile. 

Shiro feels his cheeks blush and finds no words this time. Keith grins victoriously and stretches his back, bending like a cat again. He grunts when some of his burns stretch uncomfortably and slides off of the bunk. He lands on the floor without a sound, confusing Shiro who tumbles down and causes something that sounds like bookshelves falling over. 

“Smooth, old man”, Keith chuckles and watches, hands on his hips, as Shiro tries to gather the last pieces of his dignity.

“Yeah yeah”, Shiro mutters and hurries to his own bunk, Keith’s eyes following his steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmm tecnically this chapter could be one chapter with the previous one but ehh it's too late now


	14. Broken bonds and empty promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If I have to choose between you and the arena, I will be out there in a second”, Keith hisses. “I would rather die a broken and beaten gladiator than sacrifice everything I care about for empty promises and your cold, empty heart.”

Keith is waiting for a new match to start. His eyes follow the crowd, looking through the new faces. They got mixed in with new people, giving Keith a big headache. 

He’s in the middle of trying to find Hale in the mess of new faces when something tugs in his chest. He almost doubles over from the surprising surge of pain, but manages to hold it. This is no place to show pain. 

Keith’s eyes search the room again for whatever or whoever is causing the pain. The edges of his vision start to darken and the bond tugs, like a string.

Soon he finds her. Haggar is standing in the corner of the room, flanked by two druids. The three of them stand statue-still, faces hidden. Keith feels Haggar’s burning gaze. The bond tugs again, almost making a physical string, connecting him and Haggar. The string shortens, making Keith topple to Haggar’s direction. Keith is almost pulled even further, but a hand on his wrist destroys the illusion, giving Keith control of his limbs again.

“Keith”, Shiro hisses, making the half galra turn to look at himself. “Why do you think Haggar’s here?” the human asks, his eyes blinking between Keith and the witch.

Keith is frozen in place. He’d like to know what the quiznack just happened.

“Keith?” Shiro asks, concern written on his face. 

“I have to go”, Keith answers, somehow finding his voice. It’s shaky at best. He turns his back on Shiro and walks toward Haggar, the edges of his vision finally clearing. He ignores Shiro’s calls for him, keeping his furious glare locked on Haggar.

“Keith”, Haggar greets, her voice scratchy. A free area is formed around them and Keith feels the curious eyes on his back. 

“Haggar. What are you after?” Keith asks, squinting his eyes. 

“You’re close with Shirogane”, Haggar remarks, dodging Keith’s question. 

“We sleep in the same bunk room, so?” Keith hisses, feeling the fur on the back of his neck stand. Haggar’s unspoken threat concerns him, however.

“Whatever you say. Your care for him is obvious from your shaken thoughts, however”, Haggar says and Keith can hear the smirk in her voice. 

His eyes widen but he doesn’t speak, not sure if he can use his voice with enough force to convince the witch she’s wrong.

“There are many things you don’t realize about our new… connection. I would like to explain them to you now”, Haggar speaks, nodding to the door. 

“But… the match is about to start”, Keith protests, yet is already being escorted out. “Why now?” 

“I have been very busy lately. Besides, would you rather fight on the arena? I know your burns haven’t fully healed yet. I will deal with those as well”, Haggar explains as the doors shut close behind them. 

Keith manages to catch a glimpse of Shiro’s horrified expression behind them.

Haggar stays quiet for the whole walk, which is quite long. The two druids leave them be at the doors of a huge examination room. Keith can vaguely recall it, yet he doesn’t dwell on it for too long. 

“Strip”, Haggar orders. 

“Seriously?” Keith asks, scowling. 

Haggar shoots a yellow glare to his direction, her eye peeking out from under her hood. Keith grumbles angrily yet starts taking off his uniform. 

Keith still has unhealed burns all over, all different levels of healing. Haggar examines him carefully, her surprisingly soft fingers brushing over some of them. Keith has felt hot this entire time, like the burns were still aflame, but Haggar’s fingers leave behind a trail of cold numbness. 

Haggar is on the process of healing Keith’s back when she finally begins talking. 

“When my blood was injected into your system it forged a bond between us, allowing me to sense some of your emotion, both physical and emotional”, Haggar explains, drawing small circles over Keith’s spine, like some kind of pattern. 

“What about me?” Keith wonders, a little bit shook. So Haggar has put him under constant surveillance?

“You shouldn’t have any control in my direction, little one”, Haggar says. 

The nickname throws Keith off his rhythm. Only now he realizes, how soft and fond Haggar has been acting. She hasn’t said a single bad word nor has she done her usual prickly comments. 

“What else did the blood transfer change?” he asks, his voice quivering slightly. Haggar still moves her fingertips along his back, quiet. “Haggar”, he whispers, suddenly more afraid than ever before. “What. Changed.”

Haggar takes a deep sigh. “You… are like a son to me now. Accompanied with motherly instinct and all. I…”, Haggar confesses, her hands pressing fully against Keith’ shoulder blades. 

Keith coils away from the touch suddenly burning him instead of comforting. He jumps up and stands, turning to look at the witch, who has deflated like a balloon. 

“What? Why?” Keith chokes out. He can still feel the traces of Haggar’s fingers. His injuries are slowly healing, like from a magic touch. “Why would you?” he asks, voice shaking. 

“I… I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. The possibility of a bond forming was one out of five, and it hasn’t happened before…”, Haggar tries but Keith shushes her, overwhelmed by both what she’s saying and how she is acting. 

“So that is what was wrong all this time! I thought the bond was different, but of course it was different, because you changed it!” Keith mumbles, pulling at his hair, now long enough to hang on his shoulders. “The bond I had with my mom… along with my knife are the only things I have left of her. With the bond I could tell whether she was alive or not! And now I can’t know, I won’t know, she won’t know. Oh god, she probably thinks I’m dead... “, Keith rants, crouching down. 

He has never longed for his mother more. Not even as a little cub, when she was away for long missions. Not even when she originally went undercover, gone perhaps permanently. 

Now, when he no longer feels her warm and caring presence and realizes why, Keith cries out for his mother like a lost child. Haggar crumbles on the other side of the room, fumbling to come closer. Keith thrashes and screams; he doesn’t want Haggar’s twisted connection. Her energy is poisoned and twisted, probably poisoning his brain that very moment. 

With the last bit of power he has Keith pushes Haggar away from his mind, which looks like a punch to the gut for the witch. 

“What are you doing?” She asks, trying to sound soft and motherly, but sounding more like a shaking monster, capable of tearing a mother and a child apart. “Keith, I’m here for you, I promise. Don’t push me away”, Haggar pleads, trying to grasp at Keith’s mind. 

If Keith focused he could hear the true heartbreak in her voice. Yet, he doesn’t have the heart to sympathize, especially towards someone like her. 

“Stay away from me and my mind”, Keith whispers, pushing her out once again. 

Haggar looks broken. Her hood has fallen a bit, revealing her purple face and yellow eyes. The most startling thing are the long, red markings over her cheeks, like claw marks on her stretched skin.

“Please, Keith. I can help you!” Haggar insists, now going against his walls with more power and purpose. Keith keeps them solid, keeps them grounded. He doesn’t leave even a crack for Haggar to pass through. 

“And how is that?” Keith hisses, pushing himself up. Haggar tries to steady him, as his rise is a bit unsteady, but Keith pushes her hand away.

“I… come back to me. You don’t have to fight anymore! That’s what you want right? You surely can’t settle for a short life in the arena when you could have eternal life with my help”, Haggar says, desperately trying to keep Keith close to her. Keith walks a few steps back, shivering. He starts pulling on his prisoner uniform, the last of the burns healed by now. 

“If I have to choose between you and the arena, I will be out there in a second”, Keith hisses. “I would rather die a broken and beaten gladiator than sacrifice everything I care about for empty promises and your cold, empty heart.”

Haggar looks broken. Keith is sure now, that he has hit a sore spot. Yet he doesn’t find himself pitying the witch. Instead he feels cold and, well, slightly victorious. From up until this point he had though the witch was unbreakable and emotionless. 

“Please”, was Haggar’s last plead. 

Keith turned to look away, even when his heart ached and the walls around his mind were bombarded.

-

Keith returns to the bunk room much later than normal. He had been given a shower and a proper meal, all apparently courtesy of Haggar. Keith only scoffed her attempts at winning him over, yet did not decline the gifts. 

Why waste a good opportunity?

So, when Keith finally returns, bone tired, he sees Shiro, Hale and Meeri’s concerned yet happy expressions. They throw questions at him, all except for Shiro, who stays quiet. 

That’s when Keith notices that, apart from them, the room is empty. 

“Where are the others?” Keith asks, yet a suspicion has already settled in him. 

Meeri swallows and looks way. Hale rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, avoiding Keith’s eyes.

Shiro is the only one who looks at him, but with sorrow. “We three were the first ones. You were supposed to come after, and the opponent had been prepared for you… it was impossible for the others to defeat”, Shiro says, offering Keith a silent sorry. 

Keith freezes. 

That damned witch.

“I… I understand”, Keith mutters and climbs up to his bunk, suddenly weighed down more than ever before. 

He senses the worried glances of the others. He senses Haggar, prickling at the edges of his mind. Keith shakes all of it away, pushing both his friends and Haggar away, coiling up around himself. 

Death is not a new concept to Keith, no. He has killed and has been responsible for countless of deaths. 

Yet… lately death has been much more impactful. It will come bite him in the ass later, Keith knows, but right now all he wants to do is break down and see his mom again. Keith shakes, taking in breaths he has to force to keep steady. 

Haggar prods at the edge of his mind again, more desperate. Keith growls internally at the sliver of mind trying to coil around his, forcing the witch to back off. 

THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, Keith yells at her through a hole in his wall.

Maybe Haggar hears him, because she pulls away, fading. 

Without the connection Keith feels empty. 

If the others hear his sobs, they do not say anything the next morning. 

-

The next morning they are hauled up by soldiers. They have to pack up whatever stuff they have, which is not a lot. Keith hides his knife, hoping that the soldiers don’t care enough to bother checking them for any weapons. 

Which they don’t, instead they lead them to a whole new part of the building. 

There aren’t open cells anymore, no. Instead they pass closed doors, all marked with a number. 

Finally they arrive at number 19. The door is cracked open, revealing a dark room. 

“These are your new living quarters”, the soldiers inform them, pushing the door open and shoving them inside. Before they have time to ask anything, the door is slammed shut and closed by multiple locks. The four glance at each other and then around, curious of this new area.

The room is relatively big, holding four beds with relative open space between them. There are a few doors, which they find out lead into a bathroom and a shower, finally separate from the living quarters. 

They all pick beds, Meeri on the wall, Hale next to her, then Keith and finally Shiro against the other wall. The beds are all identical in shape and form and everyone has a pillow and a blanket. It is a confusing upgrade but not unwelcome.

There’s one more room they haven’t looked at, and Keith goes first, leaving the others to argue about unimportant things. Haggar prods at him again, and Keith sends her a huff of what. Haggar is surprised that he’s even listening to her, but mentally asks him about the new room. 

Of course she had a say in this. Keith doesn’t answer her, closing up whatever space he opened up in his wall. It leaves Haggar frustrated, but Keith doesn’t bother, still angry and a small bubble of a plan forming in his mind. Haggar doesn’t deserve his forgiveness, not now, when he can use her begging to his advantage.

The last room is a living space, complete with a couch and a small kitchen. Keith almost sobs at the marvelous sight, lunging for the refrigerator. 

It’s filled with food of all sorts and Keith can already tell that there are some specific foods for Meeri, due to her special diet. 

Next to the fridge a piece of paper is laid on the counter. Curious, Keith picks it up. 

It is a simple note, left by a soldier or a maiden by the handwriting.

This will be simple:   
-Food delivery once a week  
-Cleaning once a week unless you do it yourselves  
-Bathroom, showers, anything, right here. No need to go outside except for special events and arena fights  
-Don’t kill each other

Keith walks back to the ‘bedroom’, note in hand. He walks into the middle of Shiro and Hale arguing, and Meeri, who has occupied the middle bed and watches the two with a grin. 

“Guys?” Keith tries, but only manages to catch Meeri’s attention. They snort. “GUYS?” Keith asks louder, yet the two still do not hear it. 

Keith stomps over, pushing himself between the once tall men, but now the same height as him. It still confuses Keith a bit, but he pushes the thought aside.

“GUYS!” Keith yells, finally grabbing their attention. 

“Oh, Keith. Sorry”, Hale says sheepishly. Shiro is quiet, but his eyes have an apologizing blink to them. 

“I found this note”, Keith explains, reading it out loud, making Hale laugh.

“Simple”, he remarks and sneaks a glance at Shiro. 

Keith walks to his bed, sighing, as he throws himself down on it. He feels Hale and Shiro’s eyes on the back of his head. 

“Is everything alright? You’ve been stressed since the whole being-gone-for-a-month thing”, Hale asks, his words careful, as if Keith would attack him for saying the wrong thing. Any other day the tone would amuse him but right now it’s just an another annoying thing for the day.

Keith has been fending Haggar off of his brain for the whole morning and now she has to fend the others away too? Quiznak, he does not have the energy for this.

“I’m okay. Just… what happened gets to me a lot. And the reason why I was gone today has something to do with it”, Keith admits, staring at his purple fingertips. How much effort would it take to turn himself more human? Would the look come naturally or would it waste his energy and make things even more harder for him than what they already are? 

Keith sighs and glances around the room. 

Everyone else has gone away, their chatter echoing through the rooms. Keith feels tears prickle the corners of his eyes and swipes them away with his arm. 

He doesn’t even understand why he’s crying, damn it. 

Keith pushes himself out, refusing to cry any longer. He staggers into the small bathroom, his vision blurry from the tears. 

What really gets Keith is the fact that there is a mirror. A mirror. Keith looks at his face, so alien to him he almost doesn’t recognize himself. Sure, he had looked at himself after getting the blood transfer but he had been shadowed by Haggar, distracting him.

He looks more grown. He’s not a kit anymore - even the marks on his cheeks have lengthened to prove it. His dull yellow eyes are ghosted by shadows and his hair is long, tangled in multiple places. 

There are scars all over his body. Some are just ghostly memories but some still ache. Keith scratches a few, feeling satisfied when the cut re-opens, oozing out a drop of bright red blood.

Then he looks back at himself. What would be the right point to start? Skin tone? 

Keith tries it, imagining a tone close to Shiro’s. Nothing happens at first and Keith is lost, trying to remember what the change feels like. 

Suddenly it feels like someone poured cold water over him. Color drains from his skin, leaving behind a light-colored canvas. 

His cheek marks stay and his eyes are as yellow as ever but it’s improvement. Keith looks more human now than he ever has. 

With a grit of his teeth he wills the cheek markings to disappear. They retract from his cheeks but leave a hot trail behind, reminding Keith of his true nature. 

It’s almost perfect, the only thing left being his eyes. 

Keith wills the yellow away but leaves behind the purple, aiming for that bit of mystery. 

Keith looks into the mirror, face to face with someone else. It’s not him, not even if their hairstyles are identical and the way they use their face to express emotion is the exact same. The person in the mirror is not him, no. 

But that satisfies Keith. He turns back, the turning back much easier than turning into a human was, but the experiment leaves a churn of satisfaction in Keith’s chest. He doesn’t have to tell the others about this at all. It can be just his secret. He has to practice until he’s perfect, he’s not sure why, but he just has to.

For some reason, he feels like he’ll need his second form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, after a break it feels good to be back! Fun news, we've finally reached the point I originally wrote this to, so now we'll be heading into mysterious waters. That might mean more spaced out updates because I have to write the new chapters but we'll see. I still have a few weeks of summer vacation left to use as much time on this fic as I want.


	15. Trust fall? Trust escape?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So”, Shiro begins, still shuffling his legs around for a more comfortable position. “What exactly are we doing?” he asks, huffing. 
> 
> “We’re going back to Earth.”

It doesn’t take long for them to be on the Arena again. Haggar, thankfully, doesn’t come and try to sway Keith to give up. Instead, she separates Keith from the others, forcing the three to go on their turn first. Keith finds himself alone after five fighters, Hale returning from his fight but being escorted out immediately. He has a sorry grin on his face and a bit of blood is smeared on his cheek. 

Keith feels lonely. The waiting hall is filled with people he doesn’t know. Every glance to his direction tells him that oh, they do know him. It makes Keith’s fur stand on end. 

Someone bumps into his shoulder, almost sending Keith spinning. He hisses form the contact and turns to whoever bumped into him, ready to show them what way whatever hole they crawled out from is. 

“Oh, apologies, Ekor”, the stranger says, bowing their head. 

Every fibre of Keith’s being stands on edge. That word, that phrase… is so familiar. Luckily, Keith’s mouth is much faster than his brain and supplies the correct answer. 

“Alike minds bump eventually.” 

The Blade of Marmora agent grins. They’re not familiar looking, not to Keith, but he is intrigued anyway. 

“What is your business here?” Keith asks, tilting his head.

“Someone needs to get out of here”, the Blade answers. “Someone important, who has to get back to their home planet and collect something very crucial to finishing this war.” 

“And what may that be?” 

The Blade’s eyes twinkle in the dim light of the Arena. “I think you know.” 

Keith hisses. “I thought Voltron was meant to be concealed until the right moment?” 

The Blade nods. “And now that moment is here, or so the prophets say. Leader wants to use the opportunity.”

“Why would Leader trust me in this?” Keith asks, skeptical. 

“He trusts your skills. We would have come for you sooner but we had to wait for you and the human to be closer to each other”, the Blade explains. “Further details will be provided the next fight. Don’t die.” 

Keith grins: “Not planning on it.”

-

Keith is on edge for the next week. The clock is ticking and even Haggar has noticed, all of the stress trickling through their very unfortunate, yet still there, bond. Keith swears that the first thing he does when he gets out is get rid of it. 

Keith also cozies up to Shiro, slowly gaining the human’s trust. He puts aside whatever jealousy or mixed feelings he had previously, now only focused on getting the human back to his home planet and to the Blue Lion. 

If the prophets say the time is right, then it is. 

The only thing left bothering him is Hale and Meeri. He doesn’t want to leave them, despite all of his attempts at distancing himself. 

He can’t stop thinking about Meeri, heartbroken when Keith doesn’t even help her. He can’t stop thinking about Hale, who has put a lot of effort and trust on Keith, only to find his and Shiro’s beds empty. 

But sometimes war doesn’t give you a chance. 

When Keith knows it’s the last night to leave he has a game night, the four of them, using the playing cards they were given (courtesy of the still begging Haggar) to bond with the two for the last time. Keith doesn’t doubt that they’ll be killed or tortured when he’s gone. He knows Haggar will take out her anger on the two, and the game night is his way of apology. 

“No way you won again”, Hale huffs, when Keith wins the third time in a row, with Meeri hissing at her barely missed victory.

“What, like it’s hard?” Keith remarks, raising an eyebrow. “Hale, you have no poker face whatsoever. Meeri poses an actual challenge and Shiro…”, Keith speaks, shaking his head to finish off the sentence. He can’t verbally express how much Shiro sucks, to be honest. 

“Well I’m sorry this card game is nothing like what we have on Earth”, Shiro whines, after his third consecutive last place. Meeri pats his back to offer small comfort, but Shiro only groans and shakes his head in defeat. 

“Let’s go another round?” Keith sheepishly asks, receiving three muttered okays.

-

Shiro doesn’t dream often, and when he does, the dreams are usually nightmares of shaken images and blurred faces. But now he’s here, in this dark hallway. There’s a door at the end of it, but the door radiates ominous energy, powerful enough for even Shiro to cover away.

He spins around, only to realize that behind him is the literal void, eating up at his heels. Shiro takes a hesitant step towards the door, but the void follows. 

It practically drives Shiro to the door. Closer by Shiro realizes that the door is covered in something. A liquid: it’s colour is hard to see in the dim hallway but the stench of it is something Shiro will never be able to forget. 

The smell of blood. 

He almost pukes when he has to swing the door open to not fall into the void. 

Behind the door is… a sight Shiro thought he would never see again. 

It’s Adam, right there in the living room. He looks up at Shiro with a smile from the couch. 

“You’re back! Did you have a nice day at work?” Adam asks, taking a sip of tea. 

It’s his favorite tea: the smell of it is filling the room. Shiro doesn’t remember what the precise taste is anymore but the smell is of something sweet, maybe a combination of fruit. 

He stands there, frozen in the doorway. 

“Takashi, is everything okay?” Adam asks after a moment, standing up. “Takashi?” 

But Shiro can’t move. He doesn’t know what to do - to run over and hug Adam, muttering that he was right all along, that Shiro shouldn’t have gone? To apologize for leaving things as they were, not even bothering to try and be on somewhat good terms? 

Shiro doesn’t know. 

“Ta--kas--hi”, Adam says again, but something is wrong in his voice. Suddenly everything is distorting, the view breaking like a scratched dvd. “Is okay -- ever -- everything?” 

Adam twists, somehow back on the sofa before in front of Shiro and back on the couch again. The dream starts to dissolve from the edges, breaking into the same void Shiro had just escaped seconds ago. 

Cold sweat runs down his back. 

“Shiro… Shiro.” 

A call for him, coming for somewhere else. Shiro can’t take his eyes off of Adam, who is still glitching. A brush of fingertips on his cheek.

“Shiro.” 

It’s the voice again. Shiro drags his eyes off of the horrifying sight of Adam, still glitching, his voice unrecognizable. 

“Hello?” Shiro asks for the voice. 

“Shiro!” 

It’s louder now, someone shakes Shiro’s shoulders. 

And suddenly he’s up, hitting his forehead against the person who called for him, grunting in pain. 

“Ow ow ow.”

“Keith?” Shiro asks, looking at the hunched form. Keith is clutching his forehead, the only thing clear about him in the dark being his bright yellow eyes, like two balls of light in the room. 

“Shush, Shiro”, Keith hisses, glancing to Meeri’s and Hale’s bunks. Then, Keith looks into Shiro’s eyes, the glint in them serious. “Shiro, do you trust me?” 

Shiro is confused. Why would Keith, out of all people, wake him up at this hour to ask? 

“I… yeah”, Shiro answers. 

“Good. Then trust me, and come with me. I don’t have time to explain right now, but I promise I will explain later, ‘kay?” Keith whispers, standing up from the edge of Shiro’s bed, where he was sitting on. “Can you see in the dark?” 

Shiro shakes his head, but realizes that he is, in fact, in the dark and opens his mouth to answer, but Keith sighs heavily. “That won’t make this easy.”

Shiro almost jumps when Keith’s soft hand touches his own. Keith’s skin is so soft, it’s more like fur, yet the texture is one of skin. Keith’s touch is firm, but not enough to hurt. 

“Follow my lead.” 

Shiro stands, not bothering to ask questions. Keith sounds serious and, to be honest, like he’s in a rush.

Keith leads Shiro to the door, carefully maneuvering around the pile of fanmail and gifts from Hale’s many, many admirers. Shiro can’t do it in full lighting, so his respect for Keith grows, when Keith doesn’t even stumble.

Meeri sleeps quietly, yet moves a lot and Hale snores, so they’re both fast asleep. Keith’s yellow eyes flicker to them cautiously anyway, before he knocks on the door. 

It’s a series of knocks. First, Keith taps three quick times. Then he counts to three before repeating the same. Then he counts to five and taps once. 

The door swooshes open, revealing the dimly lit hallway. Shiro’s eyes widen.

Keith pulls him to the hallway, only for the two of them to be face to face with a tall galra with light-purple skin and white markings. Shiro freezes up, expecting a fight.

What he sees instead is a hug, the tall galra wrapping his arms around Keith in an awkward embrace. 

“The ancients, you’ve grown”, the tall galra mutters when the two pull apart. 

“Ulaz…”, Keith sighs, then winces as if remembering what the situation is. “Now is not the time for long lost memories. We have to move”, Keith says, his eyes flickering to Shiro. 

Shiro wants to ask so many questions, but he remembers Keith’s warning of having not much time and only nods. 

The galra, Ulaz, sighs. “You’re right.”

Then they move. Ulaz leads the two of them down a jumble of hallways and corridors, sometimes lunging into closets and empty rooms to hide from hall patrols, sometimes pressing into corners and hidden spots in the architecture. 

The most stressful point for Shiro is when they have to wait in a tiny hallway for multiple minutes, Ulaz pressed against a column and Shiro hiding behind a box. Keith has to hold onto two pillars on the ceiling, hanging himself between them. His long hair is difficult to contain but somehow he does, still a mystery to Shiro. 

They end up in a hangar, hidden in the corner and behind some kind of supply vessel. The hangar is dark and quiet, the only light being the emergency exits. 

“Alright. Have you told him the plan, Keith?” Ulaz asks, when they lean against a ship to catch their breaths. They are in no danger to get caught here, especially when they entered through the vents, not leaving a trace in the door pads. 

“No. I couldn’t be alone with him”, Keith sighs, his eyes flickering to Shiro momentarily before back to Ulaz. 

“Alright. I have to go back soon before my bathroom break is deemed too long but… I wish for good luck on your mission”, Ulaz says, pulling Keith into an another hug. “I’d hoped we could’ve talked more thoroughly, but I miss you. All of us do”, Ulaz says, his voice breaking very uncharacteristically, especially for a galra. “Please, come home soon?” 

Keith and Ulaz hug again and Keith whispers something too quietly for Shiro to hear. 

“Good luck.”

And then Ulaz is gone, leaving behind no trace of even being there in the first place. 

Keith grabs Shiro’s arm again, this time leading him into a ship. The doors are open, left that way like many others in the hangar. They sneak into a full cargo ship, filled with all sorts of different sized boxes. Keith leads Shiro to one of the bigger ones. 

“Stand there”, Keith orders and Shiro does as he’s told, still not quite comprehending the situation. 

Are they escaping? 

After a moment of shuffling and a quiet curse from Keith the half-galra returns, guiding Shiro again. They stop behind the box, but something feels off to Shiro. 

“The box is open from the top. Here, I’ll help”, Keith tells him, not keeping his voice a whisper anymore but speaking in a hushed tone, fit for the time of night they’re moving in. 

Keith grabs Shiro’s leg, guiding it to a platform. Shiro grabs the edge of the box, raising one foot over it, soon followed by the other. 

The box is only so big. To be completely inside Shiro has to sit, and the leftover space is not too big, but soon whatever of it was left is occupied by Keith, not letting out a sound as he lands. Still on his feet Keith moves to pull the lid back on, shutting it close with a soft huff. 

And then it’s just the two of them, two grown men in a box slightly too small for both of them to fit comfortably. 

When they sit cross-legged their knees bump to the edges of the box. When they sit sort of opposite but one on more left and the other on more right they have to sit with their legs bent, not able to straighten them up. 

“So”, Shiro begins, still shuffling his legs around for a more comfortable position. “What exactly are we doing?” he asks, huffing. 

“We’re going back to Earth.” 

Shiro has to stop at that. What the hell? 

“How are we going to do that? Why are we doing it?” Shiro asks, still shocked that Keith is actually helping him… get home?

“This ship is going to take us to a planet where we can get supplies and a ship. Ulaz gave me a card to pay with, so we won’t have to steal and leave a mark behind”, Keith explains, moving in the darkness, probably playing with the card Ulaz must’ve given him in the hangar. “The answer to why is a bit more complicated… do you still remember when I told you about Voltron?” 

“The robot-lion thingy? Yeah.” 

“Well, I actually exist only because of the Blue Lion. My mom ended up on Earth because she was preventing it from being found by the galra Empire. Ulaz is my uncle’s boyfriend, by the way”, Keith quickly explains. 

Huh, that actually makes sense.

“So the Blue Lion is on Earth?” Shiro asks, raising an eyebrow. “Is that why we’re going? Why free us when someone who’s not captured could go?”

Keith sighs. “The organization which my family and I work in, called the Blade of Marmora, is a spy network working against the Empire. Sending us is a smart thing to do, actually. First of all, two Arena prisoners breaking free? A bad thing for the Empire’s image. Secondly, I will go to Earth and pick up the Blue Lion. When I return to the Blades I’ll be home and I’ll have a part of the most powerful weapon in the Universe. We also know the location of the Red Lion, but that’s because the galra have it”, Keith explains, suddenly glad he has someone he can talk to about this plan. 

“But aren’t the Lions more than normal machines? How do you know you can pilot Blue?” Shiro asks, tilting his head.

“The prophets say the right pilot will be found. I don’t know what that means other than things will work themselves out, don’t worry.” 

“The prophets?” 

“That’s a bit of a complicated thing”, Keith huffs. 

“Well it’s not like we haven’t got time, right?” Shiro chuckles, motioning to the box around them. “We could sleep too. I don’t think you got much sleep, did you?” Shiro asks, searching for the two yellow orbs that are Keith’s eyes, except that the can’t see them anymore. The only indications that Keith even is there are the soft touch of their bodies together and the steady breaths coming from his general direction. 

“...No, I didn’t”, Keith admits sheepishly. “I had to count when Ulaz would be there to open the door.” 

“So sleep? I got plenty so I can listen on for any people if you want”, Shiro offers. 

“Maybe that’s a good idea”, Keith mumbles, bringing a smile to Shiro’s face. 

“Good night, Keith.” 

“Night, Shiro. Wake me up if somethin’ happens.” 

“Sure sure.” 

Soon Keith’s breaths slow down, leaving Shiro to his own thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are... moving along. About time. Expect more talks in the Box, which I personally call Larry. Larry is the MVP of boxes, by the way.


	16. Lowkey cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Bold of you to assume I will joke around with you about Earth stuff, even if I know about them”, Keith says, grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a more light-hearted chapter for today!

Keith wakes up to stiff muscles and aching legs but hasn’t slept that well in months. Which probably says something about the quality of his sleep. 

Shiro is still awake. 

“Good sleep?” Shiro asks, smiling. His voice is quiet. 

“Yeah. What’s the situation?” Keith asks, yawning. 

“We actually left a while ago”, Shiro admits a bit sheepishly.

“What!?” Keith hisses as loud as he dares. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” 

“You looked so peaceful, I couldn’t”, Shiro admits, scratching his chin. “The last few nights you’ve seemed so restless so I figured I’d let you enjoy the rest.” 

Keith sighs, moving his legs to make the tingle go away. He feels like he’s a folding chair that’s stuck in the closed position. And it does not feel nice. Not at all. 

“I should’ve bargained Ulaz for a bigger box”, Keith whines, trying to fold his legs some other way around without kicking Shiro. It proves out to be quite the challenge, when he has to keep quiet and refrain from shaking the box. 

Shiro looks at him, unimpressed, before opening his mouth to say something. 

Whatever he was going to say is stopped by the whole ship jerking violently, not only throwing the box around, but the people inside it as well. Keith tries to hold on to anything to stop his violent shakes in the box as it rolls around the floor, occasionally even airborne. His body bumps to Shiro’s more than enough times, making them entangle together. 

And then it stops, the whole ship returning to its previous idle state.

“What the fuck?” Keith manages to grumble, trying to figure out where he is. 

The square box isn’t wide side down like previously, instead now standing on the smaller side. Keith is kneeling, his ears pressed against the wall of the box. 

And he’s looking down at Shiro, feeling the man’s legs press against his back. 

“Uhh”, Keith has time to whisper, before the whole ship jolts again, throwing the box off of it’s balance, causing it to fall, bringing Keith down with it. 

Now he’s laying on Shiro, his face barely not touching Shiro’s. 

Keith expects Shiro to wriggle out of the position but the man stays still, not moving a muscle. His eyes look into Keith’s, which Keith realizes now are the only thing Shiro’s able to see in the box. 

“What the hell”, Shiro chuckles. “I would like to speak to the pilot of this ship. I think they need to work on their skills.” 

And Keith breaks into silent laughter, having to press a hand over his mouth to contain his laugh. Shiro’s chest moves under him, as the human laughs silently as well. 

Somewhere in the cargo hold a door swishes open, but Keith is the only one to hear it, immediately silencing his laugh, his ears perking up to hear distant footsteps, slowly coming closer. 

Shiro, with his dumb human ears, doesn’t seem to hear it. Keith tries to signal him to shut it, but Shiro doesn’t get the message from Keith’s eyes. 

Finally, as a last resort, Keith presses a finger against Shiro’s lips, making the human frown. He is silent, however, listening out himself. 

Now that the footsteps are closer Keith can hear that there are two people there, talking in a quiet tone. Keith slows his breaths to hear their conversation clearer. 

“Man, those rebels almost shot us down”, a male says. 

“Mhmm”, an another voice agrees, a woman. 

“This is a mess”, the male sighs, most likely meaning the rest of the cargo hold, probably all messed up. “How are we supposed to clean this up?” 

The woman sighs and soon Keith hears the sound of a box scraping against the floor as it’s pushed around. 

Suddenly Keith is very aware of the state he’s in. Almost every part possible of him is pressed against Shiro. The human’s body is warm and, to be honest, very comfortable to lay on. 

Shiro has nice lips, and Keith remembers that his finger is still pressed against them, yet doesn’t bother to move it. 

Keith doesn’t have the guts to look at Shiro, instead looking at the wall of the box, fervently trying to focus on the sounds slowly coming closer instead of Shiro’s very hot, very muscly and very comfortable body.

After what seems like an eternity the voices finally come to their box, previously at the very back of the hangar. 

“Last one”, the female voice cheerily says, getting a groan from the male as an answer. 

The box moves, yet reluctantly. The first push surprises Keith enough for him to jolt forward, his nose colliding with Shiro’s. Both of their eyes widen. 

Keith tries to hold his head away from Shiro’s face, but the two galra push it in small nudges, making Keith jolt closer and closer to Shiro’s face, hitting his nose to the human’s cheeks, nose and chin. Keith has to stop himself multiple times from groaning, especially when his nose hits Shiro’s chin. The man gives Keith an apologetic look, clearly not experiencing any pain from Keith’s little nudges. 

“By the ancients, this is heavy”, the female guard huffs from somewhere to Keith’s left. 

“Tell me about it”, the male guard answers, making Keith twitch nervously. 

“Well, I won’t feel sorry for the guys who have to haul this one out of here anyway”, the female says and the box finally stops moving. “We still have enough time to eat before we’re at Tyloon. You wanna come?” the woman asks, leaning on the box. 

Keith’s nose tickles. Fear seeps into his eyes and even Shiro notices, not sure why Keith is panicking, but concerned anyway.

“Why not?” the male answers. Keith needs to sneeze. Really badly. 

Agonizingly slow the two walk off, their footsteps echoing in the cargo hold. Keith’s eyes tear up from holding in the sneeze. He waits until the door closes before turning his head away, sneezing with a soft achoo. 

“Wait, was that a sneeze?” Shiro asks, surprised. Keith bows his head in embarrassment, trying to cover away.

“Shut up.” 

“It was a nice sound-” 

“I said shut up.”

The box quiets into an uncomfortable silence. Neither Keith or Shiro can find something to say, the quiet turning from awkward to oppressive within seconds. 

Keith tries to shuffle off of Shiro but only ends up making things even more uncomfortable for the both of them. Sweat rolls down Keith’s back from trying to keep himself up. His wrists ache too, and he’s seriously considering just dropping himself back down on Shiro.

“I know what you’re thinking”, Shiro sighs after a moment of silence. “Just do it.” 

Shiro lets out an oomph when Keith lands down on him, his hands and knees hurting from keeping himself in the same position too long. 

“You know Shiro, you’re actually quite comfortable to lie on”, Keith admits, flicking his ears. He knows that they tickle Shiro’s chin, but at the moment he doesn’t care for that. 

He’s busy trying to stifle the purrs in his chest.

“Well I’m glad you think so”, Shiro answers. “Even when this whole situation is very odd. How long do you think it’ll take before we’re there?” he asks, his moving chin brushing against Keith’s ears. 

“Well the two guards mentioned getting food before arriving, so unless they’re foodies I’d guess around half a varga to varga.”

“Huh”, is Shiro’s only answer. 

The slow rise and fall of Shiro’s chest calms Keith down and makes him droopy, leading to him slowly but surely falling towards unconsciousness. 

“Are you purring?” 

And there goes whatever ideas of a nap Keith had. He metaphorically stomps on the treacherous noise coming from him. 

“No”, he insists, hoping he doesn’t sound too denying. 

“No I’m pretty sure that that’s exactly what that was”, Shiro muses.

“What do you want in exchange for secrecy?” Keith asks, pouting. 

“Is it really that bad? Will it hurt your ego to purr like a space cat?” Shiro asks, chuckling. 

“Duh”, is Keith’s answer. 

“Okay how about this. When we get out, you give my legs a massage”, Shiro suggests.

Keith considers it for a second before shrugging. “Okay. If this stays between us.” 

“Aye aye, captain.”

“What?” 

Shiro sighs. “One of these days I’ll teach you a bunch of dumb Earth stuff so I can finally share a few jokes with you.” 

“Bold of you to assume I will joke around with you about Earth stuff, even if I know about them”, Keith says, grinning. 

Shiro gasps, the tone one of betrayal. He’s about to say something mean when the constant hum of the ship around them quiets, making both of the men quiet down as well. 

Not too long after that the cargo hold door opens, more galra filling in than previously. The boxes are moved out of the ship in practiced and swift movements. When their box is moved it doesn’t move with sharp tugs but with one, continuous movement. 

They are carried to a storage area. Keith and Shiro wait out until everything around them is quiet, before Keith flips the switch to open the side of the box, making both of them stumble out. 

The two stretch, both groaning in pain when their legs straighten.


	17. Space mall and a prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the hell?” Shiro asks, glancing around the alley for any signs of this being a prank or something. “Where did you get clothes? How did you do… that?” Shiro mutters, pointing at Keith’s, well, everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR ATTEMPTED NON-CON. THERE IS A SUMMARY IN THE END NOTES FOR ANYONE WHO DOESN'T WANNA READ IT.

Keith leads Shiro out of the storage room and they emerge in an alleyway on some foreign space station. The stars spread out around them, separated by a sheen of thick glass. Shiro looks up, still marveling the sight, but Keith surveys the area around them.

The alley is quiet but the street up ahead is busier, the sounds of ships and people clear.

“Okay, listen, we need disguises”, Keith says, tapping the ground with his foot. “I have an idea on mine but you’ll need one too.”

Shiro frowns, his brain spacing out.

“Well clothes would probably be a good thing to start with?” Shiro brainstorms, trying to think of how they can get those clothes without being revealed in the first place.

Shiro jumps when Keith places his hand on Shiro’s bicep. “I’m gonna do something weird, but you have to trust me on this.”

Shiro chuckles. “I thought we already established this: I trust you.”

Keith only shrugs, before stepping back a few steps. “Please turn around I’ll have to strip for this one.”

Shiro’s eyebrows rise but he obliges, spinning around. He hears Keith’s shuffling and tries to focus on anything and everything else but the need to peek.

After what feels like way too long Keith huffs: “Okay, you can turn around now.”

When Shiro turns he almost jumps, because he’s pretty sure the guy who’s standing behind him isn’t Keith.

“What the hell?” Shiro asks, glancing around the alley for any signs of this being a prank or something. “Where did you get clothes? How did you do… that?” Shiro mutters, pointing at Keith’s, well, everything.

Keith’s purple skin is gone, replaced by a blue tone. His ears are there, but his hair is longer and put up in a simple ponytail. The scar etched over his nose, the same as Shiro’s, is gone as well, leaving no trace behind. Keith’s yellow eyes have lost their yellow, leaving behind only a feline slit. His prisoner uniform is scattered on the ground and Keith’s dressed in a loose t-shirt and shredded jean-like pants.

Keith grins: “This is a bit of an ace up my sleeve. Haggar’s experiment.”

“Wow. Seems like what you got was way better than what I did”, Shiro groans, glancing at his arm. “I mean sure, mine lights up and can melt stuff but you can shapeshift.”

Keith shrugs, but is still smiling, pleased by Shiro’s reaction.

“I’ll go out there and pick up some clothes for us. You stay here and find a spot to hide in, okay? I don’t want anyone grabbing you while I’m gone”, Keith tells him, bouncing on his feet, changing his walk style into one of someone much younger and innocent, wobbling a bit and throwing out his legs without much purpose. Whatever Shiro could point out about him clearly Keith, is gone.

Keith, who used to keep his ears still as much as possible now uses them to actively show what way he’s listening to. Keith, who was muscular and buff now turns more slim and curved. The front of his shirt smoothly expands with his chest.

“I haven’t tried this much. How does it look?” Keith asks, his voice higher and his slang less official and more like a teenager.

“It’s, wow, that’s a lot to process. There’s no way I’d recognize you out there, even if I looked”, Shiro mutters, blinking with confusion. “What the hell.”

“Well I already has the skills to do it I just got a bit of an upgrade”, Keith explains, shifting his weight from one foot to another. “I’ll meet you back here in a varga. I believe that there’s a clock that rings every varga so-”, Keith explains, but is caught off by the ring of the clock. “And there it is. So if I’m not back by the time that rings again you’ll have to contact the Blades.”

“How do I do that?” Shiro asks, tapping his ear.

“Just ask around for Lenn Sopher. A few people know that as code for ‘I need help from the Blade of Marmora’, so they’ll answer back with ‘She’s not here but I can show you where her place is’. Just follow them and the rest will be handled by the Blades. Okay?” Keith explains. “Oh, and before I forget!” Keith says, digging around the mess that used to be his prisoner uniform. “Here.”

Keith hands Shiro a knife with a symbol on the hilt, like half of the galra Empire’s logo.

“Wait, is this…?” Shiro asks, carefully taking the knife from Keith’s hands.

“It’s mine. Every member of the Blade of Marmora has one. If I don’t come back you have to give that to a Blade, ok? But for now, use it to defend yourself.”

Shiro nods and turns to find a hiding spot. When he spins around to ask Keith something, the other man is already gone.

-

Keith adapts to the chaos that is Tirena quickly. The huge amount of beings crowding it’s streets is much bigger than what Keith is used to, but he makes sure that the credit card is safely embedded between his breasts and that his walk is light and his gaze stays nonchalant.

He knows that the Empire will be watching, but that particular alleyway doesn’t have cameras, so he feels safe with leaving Shiro there.

Keith does feel a bit lonely without his knife, as it had been with him almost constantly ever since he’d been returned it. But then again, Shiro needs to get that knife to his mom if Keith’s captured here.

But Keith doesn’t have to worry about it. Those galra guards that roam the area don’t even spare him a second glance. He’s just like any other teenager or young adult hanging about.

Keith feels maybe a bit too smug about his surprisingly successful disguise. When he sees his reflection from a shop’s window, he has to smile. He couldn’t even recognize himself at first.

Although, the longer Keith stays in form, the more tired he gets. This form feels entirely different than his human one, taking up a lot more energy than the other one did.

So Keith goes for the first shop he sees, quickly realizing that the fact that he’s turned himself into a female doesn’t help with the fact that he’s buying men’s clothes. The look the cashier sends him when he walks into the men’s clothing shop is confused.

“Hello, how can I help you?” The cashier, a young man asks. He has such dark purple skin Keith almost mistook it for black at first, and there’s a friendly glint in his blue eyes. He has short hair, colored the exact same shade as his eyes, with a bit of white roots showing.

“Oh hey. I’m trying to find some clothes for my boyfriend. We did a bit of cleaning up in his closet and turns out the amount of clothes he has is… minimal. He refuses to buy more, insisting that he can work with three sweatshirts and two pairs of pants but I think different”, Keith explains, the lie smooth on his tongue.

The cashier chuckles. “Well that sounds familiar, when compared with my closet. Do you need any help with finding the right type?”

“No, I think I’m good”, Keith answers, offering the man a smile. “Thanks.”

“No problem. If ya need anything just find me”, the guy says, tapping at the namecard on his chest.

“Sure.”

And then Keith is off, picking out the different pairs of shirts for both himself and Shiro. They’re about the same size, so even if Keith hasn’t had to pick out any clothes for his own wider shoulders he can guess.

Soon Keith’s out of the shop, looking for the next one. The drain of his energy from the disguise is starting to actually feel and Keith hurries up the pace, minimizing the amount of ogling he does at the shop’s windows. He has spent twenty doboshes out of that varga he gave himself.

The next store his form fits in much better. The huge makeup-dedicated store will offer anything he needs for Shiro’s disguise. He picks up a concealer pretty close to Shiro’s skin tone, finally thankful for all of those hours spent on training how to conceal marks and scars to make yourself less memorable.

He also grabs a bit of face paints, to maybe make Shiro look more alien with markings or something. He also takes more makeup and makeup remover than probably necessary, but it’s better to be prepared than get caught with too little supplies and no disguise for Shiro.

Keith decides to leave rest of the shopping to when Shiro’s there with him, so with a smile he half-runs and half-speedwalks out of the store, hoping he can still remember the way back to the alley he left Shiro in. His energy is already low, making things a bit muffled around Keith. he knows he looks tired too, from his dragging legs and lazily moving ears.

Keith’s almost there. He can pretty much see the alley opening a few shops ahead of him.

Someone wraps their arms around Keith and pulls him back before Keith has time to react. Quickly Keith is grabbed and pulled into a much smaller alleyway than the one Shiro is hiding in. It’s a much darker one as well, the light of the street barely reaching the back of the alley, where he’s pressed against a wall.

“What do we have here? A little girl all on her lonesome? No one’s here to take you home?” a smooth-voiced guy says, pressing his smoke-smelling hand against her mouth. Keith tries to wriggle away but he’s way too tired to do anything proper.

The creep keeps his hand over Keith’s mouth and with his other hand he fumbles over Keith’s body, touching his stomach and moving down in slow, teasing moves. Keith tries to wriggle free a bit harder, using his hands to help. His shopping bag drops to the ground beside his feet as he tries to wrestle back, but that just angers the guy and he grabs Keith’s wrists, forcing his hands above his head, using the hand that he covered Keith’s mouth to keep them up.

Before Keith has a chance to yell for help the creep presses his mouth against Keith’s, forcing him into a kiss. The guy’s lips taste like alcohol and his disgusting smell is even more prominent now, making Keith puke.

The guy forces his tongue into Keith’s mouth, his hand finding its way under his shirt to grope at his breast with rough movements, his fingers dragging over Keith’s nipple, forcing a whimper out of him. Perhaps he made these breasts too life-like.

The creep forces his way into Keith’s mouth, his tongue intertwining with Keith’s. Keith makes no move to kiss him back, only moving because he’s trying to wrench his arms from the guy’s hold. Keith tries to kick, but the dude presses his body against Keith, holding him in place, wrenching his body between Keith’s legs. Keith feels the creeps boner through his pants.

The creep moves his hand down, slipping it into Keith’s pants and Keith tries one last time to wrench himself free.

And the weight on him is gone, pulled away. Keith slumps to the ground, shaking. He looks at his knees, trying to will himself to stop shaking. He hears the sounds of someone being beat up and footsteps, running off.

“Are you alright?”

No fucking way. Keith looks up, hoping that he’s wrong, but the man who’s staring back at him is none other than Prince Lotor himself.

“Did he get too far? Are you okay?” Lotor asks again crouching down to Keith’s level but not touching. “Do you need help?”

Keith takes a while to find is tongue, but when he does his words are shaky and he’s out of breath. “Thank you for saving me”, he manages to choke out, because that’s the thing any normal person will say in this situation.

Lotor smiles, concern in his eyes. “Of course. Behaviour like his is unacceptable.”

Keith is shaky when he stands, but manages to. He grabs his bag and slides past Lotor, refusing to look at the prince again.

“Do you need an escort home?” Lotor calls out after Keith, but Keith shakes his head, rushing past the other generals standing outside, all of them concerned as well. Keith clutches his bag and runs off, making sure he disappears into the crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary:  
> Keith and Shiro land at space mall, Keith heads out in a disguise, revealing Shiro his shapeshifting ability. He buys Shiro and himself new clothes and a bit of makeup before heading back, very tired after holding a complicated form for so long. A creep tries to take advantage of Keith's tired state and almost does, if it weren't for Lotor who swoops in at he last second. Keith escapes from Lotor, avoiding further conversation.


	18. Wait, Zarkon has a son?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That was Lotor”, Keith starts. “Prince Lotor.” 
> 
> “Prince?” Shiro asks, still confused. “Prince of what?”

Keith double-checks that Lotor isn’t following him before slipping back into the alley, his energy pretty much gone by now. 

“Shiro?” he hisses, looking around to find the human. “Shiro it’s me.”

After a moment the human appears from a smaller indent in the wall, all the way in the alley’s end. 

“You’re back”, Shiro chuckles, moving closer. “You got me a disguise?” 

“Yeah”, Keith says, reverting his disguise. He immediately loses most of the tiredness in his bones, but not completely because he makes the wise decision of keeping the clothes. “I brought the both of us a new change of clothes and some makeup to make you look more alien.”

Shiro is about to say something when a loud cough makes the both of them jump. 

Keith spins around to find Lotor standing in the opening of the alleyway, his generals right behind. 

“And here I was, searching for a pretty lady, only to run into you two.” 

Shiro looks confused, but ever fur on Keith is standing. 

“Figures I’d run into you”, Keith hisses, moving so he’s standing between Shiro and Lotor. Lotor doesn’t seem like he’s made the connection between Keith and his disguise. 

“I assume you two aren’t here because you’ve been freed”, Lotor muses, clearly enjoying the situation. “What should I do… how grateful would the Arena be, no Haggar, be, if I return their two most valuable gladiators? Did you know there’s an Empire wide search for you two?” 

Keith doesn’t answer, sharply eyeing Lotor.

“What do you want?” Keith hisses, sensing Lotor’s coming attempt at a deal. 

Lotor smiles mischievously.

“I, for one, love seeing Haggar’s pure hatred of the situation. She has never suffered a loss this terrible. I’d like to see you two walk free.” 

Keith is, utterly surprised at Lotor’s words. 

“So how about this. I won’t say a thing about meeting you two here, and neither will any of my associates. I will get you a ship, too. A ship that will get you to basically anywhere you want without being questioned by the Empire’s soldiers.” 

“What’s the catch?” Keith asks, pulling his ears back. 

“Some time, in the future, I may need your services. So Keith, you owe me an unidentified amount of time to serve as a general. I will not ask it now, but I might in the near future.” 

Keith stares at Lotor. This… this is just mean. 

It’s not like Keith can say no. 

“You got yourself a deal”, Keith hisses, moving from his battle-ready stance into a more chill one. If he had a tail, he would flick it, but he doesn’t, so he just settles on flicking one of his ears. 

“Keith”, Shiro hisses, reminding him of his presence. “A word?” 

Keith glances at Shiro, who looks as confused as Keith’s ever seen him. Then he turns back to Lotor, who is amused himself. 

“Alright. We still have some shopping to do so…”, Keith murmurs. 

“Ah, of course. You will find the ship on lot 37, garage A. The keys are here”, Lotor says, throwing Keith a key. It looks fancy. 

“How come you have an extra ship just lying around?” Keith asks, catching the keys and examining them. They look white and polished, but not galran. 

Lotor smiles but doesn’t answer Keith’s question, just bowing and turning to walk off. Keith and Shiro are left on the alley, Keith feeling a string of dread coil around his stomach. 

“So… who was that?” Shiro asks, still confused, shaking Keith back into reality. 

“Right, sorry. Let’s talk while we dress”, Keith says, turning to his bag. 

Keith stays quiet for the time they find good clothes to dress in, pondering what to tell Shiro. Should he be honest? Should he not reveal Lotor’s identity? Will Shiro be mad if he finds out the truth? Will he understand? 

“So…”, Shiro says, as they turn around to change. 

“That was Lotor”, Keith starts. “Prince Lotor.” 

“Prince?” Shiro asks, still confused. “Prince of what?” 

“Prince of the galra Empire.” 

That makes Shiro’s shuffling stop for a moment. “We just had a chat with the Prince of the galra Empire? He let us go?” 

Keith chuckles. “Yeah we did. He tried to recruit me, when I first came into the Arena, but I refused. Now I guess I owe him one.” 

Shiro hums but doesn’t ask further, the rest of changing spent in quietness. 

Keith spins around when Shiro says he’s done, searching the bag of makeup for something to use for Shiro. 

“I think we’ll do something simple today. I think I’ll cover up your scar and add some patterns to your skin to make you look like some other species”, Keith says, surprisingly calm.

He looks up to find Shiro, dressed in casual wear. 

And he pretty much explodes. 

Shiro is wearing a high-neck collared long-sleeved shirt, it nicely covering most of his metal arm but tight enough to show the muscle underneath. He’s wearing tight jeans, purple shoes and a beanie to hide his white hair. 

Keith almost drops the makeup due to how… good Shiro looks. And Keith has never seen the man in anything other than the prisoner uniform (which is not the most flattering thing), making the whole thing just… weird. 

“You look… nice”, Keith mumbles, standing, barely managing to hold onto the makeup. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself”, Shiro says, raising an eyebrow, but the faint blush on his cheeks betrays him and makes Keith flush even further. 

“A-alright let’s just get this over with”, Keith stammers, wishing he’d shut up already. 

It takes every bit of self-concentration Keith has to apply the makeup, to stay that close to Shiro’s face for long enough. 

\- 

It takes a while to get everything they want. A few trips to the ship, which they deem suitable for the trip. Lotor, kindly, left them with only the bare necessities. Shiro still finds it hard to grasp, that for one, Zarkon has a son, and second, that they just had a peaceful talk with the son in question.

Shiro tries to imagine Keith dressed in what those guys accompanying Lotor were dressed in, yet he finds it hard.

Currently Keith’s dressed in a red t-shirt and black jeans, his hair pulled back in a ponytail. He changed his look, first into a more human one, and then adding different symbols to the skin, explaining something about not wasting as much energy. 

Shiro can’t stop staring. He didn’t really grasp the fact that Keith is half-human, but now that he’s seen the man look like a human, it hit him. 

And Keith didn’t look bad as a human. 

They enter the ship, which they name Carol quite quickly. 

Carol is clearly not galra-made, but the technology is very advanced. The ship isn’t big, only able to fit the two of them. 

And Lotor, the fucker, gave them only one bed. 

Shiro immediately offers to sleep on the couch, which isn’t too comfy. Keith only shakes his head and says they can share - the bed is big enough to fit both of them comfortably. 

Shiro can already see how this’ll end but has nothing against that, thank you very much. 

Otherwise the ship has a spacious kitchen area, connected to the ‘living room’, which consists of a couch and two chairs set up with a small table. There’s a radio installed into the ship too, and apparently space has radios as well, so they listen to weird space broadcasts. 

The cockpit is for a single pilot and the ship has no military equipment, which concerns Shiro but Keith is satisfied with it anyway. 

They fly out of the area with Keith on the controls. 

Shiro had his doubts but they’re erased as soon as the ship starts moving - Keith is probably better than Shiro, even when Shiro’s watched him work for like five minutes. 

Keith is using new controls and is in a new ship, flying after a long time of captivity, yet he doesn’t hesitate for a second. He seems to instinctively know where all of the buttons are, his hands dancing on the controls. Shiro’s jaw drops as he watches it. 

He wonders what Keith’s like in a battle, but immediately hopes he’ll never have to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shorter chapter, folks! Next one is a bit of a bigger one, when we f i n a l l y start going towards Earth. 
> 
> I've decided to up the sexual tension, now that they're actually not in a prison, fighting for their lives once a week. You're welcome :)


	19. Fast food and actual cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Shiro, what did you do”, Keith hisses as he ushers the human into the ship. 
> 
> “I may have triggered an alarm when an Empire-issued face-recognition machine recognized me, not as Shiro, but as some other poor goon”, Shiro rushedly explains. “I was trying to not say anything because I figured they weren’t on my tail anymore but I was wrong, I guess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the gap between updates! Between having to babysit an actual baby and having to babysit my 7 year old cousin, I've had some time issues, considering the amount of time a chapter as small as this takes to write. Enjoy!

The trip to Earth will be a long one. Keith calculates it carefully and deems it to take at least a phoeb, or a month in Terran time terms. 

So a month, close quarters with Keith. 

Keith, Shiro and one bed. It’s like a start of a bad joke, Shiro muses to himself. Or a fanfic, but probably not that, right, heh. 

Keith is professional about everything. He carefully calculates the food rations they can take and how much they can eat so they make it to the next space mall or whatever and he creates multiple back-up plans if the Empire catches them. They also spend time perfecting all sorts of makeup things on Shiro’s face, both Keith and himself.

Most of the time the ship’s on autopilot, so Keith and Shiro can do whatever they want, but sometimes Keith takes the controls, to either steer them through an asteroid field or to make sure they pass through Empire-grounds safely, usually in the form of whatever species make this kinds of spacecrafts (to be honest, Shiro forgot about it already). 

And when that asteroid field happens, Shiro is like a kid in a candy store. It’s just like the Garrison’s Simulator tests, except the real thing and Keith makes it easily to at least level seven, until they’re out of it. Keith is so overqualified for literally everything they do it makes Shiro cover in fear of what Keith can’t do.

Keith grins at Shiro’s surprised expression before turning the ship to autopilot and offering some kind of snarky remark before busting to the kitchen to have a snack. 

Shiro doesn’t remember that either though, and not because he’s having some kind of weird memory blanks but because he’s too busy trying to remember every line of Keith’s face when he did that smirk. 

God, Shiro realizes, he’s so gay. 

The next problem is, of course, the one bed situation. At this point, Shiro’s not sure if Lotor did it to mess with them or not, but whatever the reason, Shiro could not be more thankful. And that is not a sarcastic comment. 

Turns out, that when Keith’s not sleeping in a room filled with criminals who might kill him any second, Keith sleeps very widely and likes to move around in his sleep. His favorite thing seems to be using Shiro as a body pillow, which, when it happened the first time, was a bit awkward, but after like the seventh time it happens in a row Shiro doesn’t even complain, just lets it happen.

And, you know, Keith is a nice body pillow too, so Shiro doesn’t mind returning the cuddles. 

-

They arrive at the system of Candria after two movements of travel, and by that time Keith has crossed over three fourths of his bucket list for the trip. Well, most of it is just: Impress Shiro! But Keith’s got that down pretty solid. 

The ship lands smoothly into the parking area and Keith picks his disguise, already pre-agreed on with Shiro. The mentioned human is already waiting for Keith outside, makeup on and clothes changed. 

“Let’s go. We have a limited amount of time”, Keith huffs, trying to feel comfortable in his new form. 

Keith likes his ears, perhaps way too much to make reliable costumes, but this is just uncomfortable. 

Keith is forced to make ears similar to Shiro’s, all round and weird. Even when he’d done his more human-like form, Keith’d kept his ears pointed similarly to Krolia’s. 

Instead they’re now dressed up as two Kaerians, which are human-like beings, only with intricate markings and a much more profound way of speech that humans. 

It took a lot of research for Keith to make them convincing markings, but the ones he chose are quite popular on Kaeri (the beings are essentially humans - the markings are fake). Still, Keith is quite proud of his work. Turns out all of that doodling and drawing actually paid off.

The two had already agreed upon a shopping list and it was easy to part ways to find what was needed. 

Thankfully Candria does not resemble the previous space mall at all, yet Keith still has shivers when he parts ways with Shiro. The human has an air of calm around him at all times, something that draws Keith in like a moth to a flame. 

Keith’s list is simple: he has the makeup products and other essentials. Shiro is the one who has to pick out the food, which, on second thought, is probably not the best thing for the human, who has been on a space mall once in his life previously and most likely all of his experience on foods sold here is the bit they already had on the ship.

Keith makes a mental note to double-check everything Shiro bought before taking off. 

Gathering the makeup is easy, especially when he doesn’t have to dress up as a female to blend in (no offence for guys who wear makeup, girls are just less made note of, Keith thinks to himself). In fact, it is easier to pick out the particular makeup he needs as a Kaerian, when it makes sense for the markings and his particular skin tone. Or, actually, Shiro’s, since Keith matched his own to Shiro’s. 

Keith is back at the ship in record time and has to wait for Shiro, who pulls up twenty doboshes later with a full shopping cart of supplies. 

They load up, while Keith checks everything Shiro bought. He’s pleasantly surprised, because he got nothing wrong. 

“Good, let’s-”, Keith starts, but is cut off. 

“There he is!” 

Keith spins around to see four security guards round up on the other end of the parking lot, clearly heading for them, seeing as no one else is in sight. 

“Shiro, what did you do”, Keith hisses as he ushers the human into the ship. 

“I may have triggered an alarm when an Empire-issued face-recognition machine recognized me, not as Shiro, but as some other poor goon”, Shiro rushedly explains. “I was trying to not say anything because I figured they weren’t on my tail anymore but I was wrong, I guess.” 

Keith only groans before taking the pilot’s seat. The ship scans the surrounding area as Keith takes off, their tails being two guard-ships. 

“There’s an asteroid field not far from here and a bunch of suns behind that that don’t like signals behind that. Behind those suns is a safehouse of the Blades where we’ll be able to re-paint this ship. Wanna go? It’ll lengthen out trip by a day or two though”, Keith explains while boosting out of the mall. 

“Let’s go”, is Shiro’s answer. 

The sour mood the cockpit is left in is a clear sign for Shiro to scatter, so he collects himself from his position by the door and goes to the bathroom to wipe off his disguise.

Shiro looks at himself through the bathroom mirror. His eyes are shadowed, though he doesn’t look as troubled as he did a rough two weeks ago. 

Maybe it’s because he’s going home. Shiro’s stomach churns at the thought.

Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have to fight anymore. His arm clenches at the thought. 

Or maybe it’s because he’s with Keith. His heart is the one that clenches now, returning Shiro’s thoughts to the almost furious Keith he’d left in the cockpit.

Shiro gathers himself and goes to make a meal. He’d actually bought some supplies to make an actual meal, not just snacks and nutrient packs. 

Well, by a meal Shiro means the space equivalent of fast food, which is still warm from the McDonald’s-esque place Shiro picked it up from. 

Keith emerges from the cockpit soon, too, and Shiro can pretty much hear the half-galran’s stomach at the sight of fast-food. 

“You stopped to buy McDonkey’s?” Keith asks, picking up what Shiro qualifies as space chicken-nuggets. 

“Uhh… I think?” Shiro wonders, trying to much on some kind of burger.

“I’m not surprised, I hear it’s Earth-inspired”, Keith points out, eating a nugget whole. “Don’t you have something like this on Earth?” 

“I believe it’s called McDonald’s”, Shiro answers. 

“Yeah, something like that”, Keith agrees. 

The two settle to eating space fast-food, Keith’s anger clearly muted by the surprisingly good food. They eat in silence, not really needing to have a conversation. 

The drink Shiro got himself is actually called KokaKola, which is really just CocaCola. The familiar taste brings a smile to Shiro’s face. 

Keith, instead, spits out the KokaKola. 

“Ew, you bought KokaKola? Are you serious?” Keith says, gagging. 

Shiro only shrugs: “It tastes like an Earth drink. I like it.” 

“You like KokaKola!?” Keith screeches, doubling over to spit out the last of it. “Disgusting. Tell me you bought some other drink”, Keith groans. 

“Uhh, hold on a sec”, Shiro says, digging through the bag. “Does Tanta work?” Shiro asks, pulling up the bottle of refreshment that looks suspiciously like Fanta. 

“Oh yeah, gimme that”, Keith purrs, grabbing the bottle and drinking straight from it, not even bothering to pour himself a glass. “Oh, that’s better.” 

Shiro raises a suspicious eyebrow. “Was it really that bad?” 

Keith only nods. “Something about KokaKola is just… yuck. I dunno how you can drink it”, he groans, moving back to his nuggets, which never seem to end. “Or maybe it’s just me.” 

“Maybe it’s just you”, Shiro frowns. “A lot of people like it on Earth.” 

Keith only shakes his head in disbelief, muttering to himself something about humans and their ever-confusing culture. 

-

Later that night, when Shiro and Keith lay on their shared bed, Shiro lays awake. 

“Hey Keith, you up?” Shiro asks, turning sideways to look at the back of Keith’s head. 

“No, go back to sleep”, is the groan Shiro receives as an answer. 

“You do know that that never works, right?” Shiro chuckles. 

“Can’t fault a guy for trying. What’s up?” Keith asks, sighing. 

Shiro tastes the words on his tongue before answering: “Why were you so angry earlier?” 

Keith is quiet for a moment, as if wondering whether or not to answer Shiro. Shiro doesn’t press it, though. 

“I guess… everything was going so smoothly. I thought we were going to make it to Earth like that. Smoothly”, Keith admits. 

“What about the run-in with Lotor?” Shiro asks, wishing he could look at Keith while talking to him. The other keeps his back turned, however. 

“I’d say that was more of a benefit than anything.” 

“True.” 

For a moment they’re silent, both clearly wanting to say something, yet keeping quiet. 

“You know, there’s no one else who I’d rather be doing this with”, Keith admits quietly, almost too quiet for Shiro to hear. 

“Really?” Shiro beams, suddenly excited. 

“Don’t let it get to your head”, Keith warns him, but Shiro completely ignores him over wrapping his arms around Keith’s waist and pressing against him like the two would be spooning. Shiro doesn’t see Keith’s immediate blush in the darkness. 

“You know, there’s no one else I’d rather to do this with, either”, Shiro points out, leaning over Keith’s shoulder, which is surprisingly hard, considering Keith’s impressive shoulder width. 

“Are you saying that because it’s true or because I’m the only one who’s actually able to do this with you?” Keith asks sourly, but Shiro can hear the grin in his voice. 

“I love you too”, Shiro says cheerily. 

Keith sighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I passed the 100th page today! Yay! (This whole thing is written over on Google Docs with font size 11) This is, on record, the longest fic I've ever written!


	20. Grandpa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro half expects for Keith to fervently deny it, but instead he nods, shaking a bit. Shiro doesn’t hesitate to pull the other man into a hug, his hand instinctively reaching to pet Keith’s hair.

I love you too. 

Keith fell asleep a long while ago, leaving Shiro to wonder, whatever entity made him say those words. He does realize that Keith took it as just goofing around, but Shiro’s heart is way too excited about the whole ordeal for it to be normal. He had to unwrap himself away from Keith, just so the other man wouldn’t quite literally feel Shiro’s heartbeat against his back. 

Keith’s breaths are even, but Shiro is a blushing mess, his breaths nowhere even close to those dull with sleep. Shiro rubs his face and pats his cheek, trying to get the furious nervousness to settle. There is no way he’s going to be able to sleep like this. 

Shiro is startled by Keith shuffling around in his sleep, but the half-galra doesn’t wake up, just mutters something Shiro can’t quite catch, the normal sleep talk. Shiro doesn’t think much of it, just focuses on deep breaths and thinking about anything but the way his body pressed up against Keith quite perfectly. 

Then Keith shuffles again, muttering something different this time. It almost sounds like a name, but Shiro has never heard a name like it. 

Then Keith trashes around, moving his arm. The flailing thing hits Shiro’s nose and makes the man grunt. 

Then Keith stills, on his back, hand pressed against Shiro’s face. Shiro carefully removes Keith’s arm, only to have the other man trash around again, this time away from Shiro and closer to the edge of the bed. 

Keith’s muttering something again, but now Shiro’s sure that it’s just gibberish, as the mumbling makes no sense whatsoever. But the mumbling does get louder as Keith’s breaths quicken and he starts edging towards the edge of the bed. 

Shiro realizes the danger of the situation and lunges, managing to catch Keith by his waist just as he’s about to roll of the edge of the bed. 

When Shiro’s arm grabs Keith’s waist the other man jolts awake, bumping his forehead against Shiro’s, who was in the process of dragging Keith away from the edge. 

“Ow”, Shiro hisses, pulling back. Great, now not only his nose, but his forehead aches as well. 

“...Shiro?” Keith grumbles, sounding confused, yet there’s an edge to the man’s voice Shiro doesn’t know how to decipher. He closes his eyes and rubs his forehead. 

“Ow ow ow. I saved your ass from falling off the bed and this is the thanks I get?” Shiro asks, now a bit cranky from the quite painful assault, even if Keith was quite unaware of his trashing. 

“Sorry.” 

Keith’s tone makes Shiro hinge his eyes open. 

The light of the ship is dim, set to night mode, but Shiro can still see Keith’s miserable expression and the tears on the corner of his eyes. 

“Oh”, Shiro whispers. “Bad dream?” 

Shiro half expects for Keith to fervently deny it, but instead he nods, shaking a bit. Shiro doesn’t hesitate to pull the other man into a hug, his hand instinctively reaching to pet Keith’s hair.

“What are you doing?” Keith asks, the sound a bit muffled seeing as Keith’s face is pressed against Shiro’s chest. 

“My grandpa used to do this when I had bad dreams. It always helped me to fall asleep again”, Shiro explains, continuing to pet Keith’s hair. The tips of Keith’s ears tickle Shiro’s chin. 

Keith hums, but to Shiro’s delight doesn’t push away, just lets Shiro hold him. 

-

The next morning Keith wakes up to a tangle of limbs and an alarm, beeping way too loud and way too obnoxiously. Shiro groans from somewhere above Keith, which, at the moment, Keith doesn’t spare a second thought to. 

“Remind me, why did we decide to put the alarm to the other side of the room?” Keith groans, wishing he could press his hands over his ears, which are starting to ring. 

Only, his other arm is trapped under Shiro and the other is between them, both of the limbs tingling unpleasantly. 

Shiro groans and shifts, alerting Keith to the man’s arms, one over Keith’s waist and one tangled in his hair. Shiro yawns and his chin brushes Keith’s ears, making them twitch. 

“We have to get up, don’t we?” 

“Shiroooo”, Keith groans. “I’m going to go deaf soon if you don’t let me go.” 

Shiro only now realizes that his hold on Keith is firm, stopping the other man from leaving the embrace, and loosens his hold. Keith wriggles away, shakes some feeling into his legs and stumbles to the alarm clock, practically punching it to silence the beep. 

“Shiro, set the breakfast table. I’ll go check out coordinates”, Keith says, heading to the cockpit while pulling out the gazillion tangles in his hair. 

Keith is pleased by their process, noting that they’ll be at the base within two hours. He makes sure the ship is sending a code message on the base’s wavelength, hoping that they catch it and are prepared for their arrival. 

Keith would rather not be blown up, after all. 

Keith grabs his hairbrush and an elastic band, deciding to go for the braided look today. 

He walks back to the main area only to find Shiro still in bed, his head picking out from under the sheet. 

“Shiro?” 

No answer. 

Keith places the hairbrush on the couch and ties the finished braid before tippy-toeing to the bed, his ears picking up Shiro’s deep breathing. Keith tries to not snicker as he grabs his own pillow, noticeably harder than Shiro’s, and raises it far above his head. 

“Wake up sleepy head!” Keith yells, hitting Shiro with the pillow as hard as he can. 

The resulting event is a pillow fight, the two sides being Shiro, who definitely has trouble keeping his eyes open and Keith, who has the accuracy of a sniper and the power of someone who happens to be a bit more of a morning person than Shiro.

In the end Shiro winds up defeated on the couch with Keith looming over him, a satisfied smirk on the dark haired man’s face. Shiro stares up at him, kind of awake. 

“You got coffee?” Shiro mumbles, sniffing. “I’d like coffee.” 

Keith snorts and spins around, heading for the ‘coffee machine’, or as Shiro calls it, the death star. 

He plops Shiro’s mug (With the text old man written in sharpie accompanied by a drawing which makes Shiro look roughly fifty years older) into the circular machine. It takes only a few seconds for it to pour the delicious-smelling coffee and as it scans the name it puts in the correct amount of milk and sugar, just as Shiro likes it. 

Keith has his own coffee black (His mug decorated with ‘Nya :3’, which made Shiro pretty much die of laughter, yet Keith seems to not understand), and plops down on the couch, Shiro barely having time to move his legs out of the way. 

"Thank god space coffee exists”, Shiro groans after his first sip. Keith silently agrees, sipping his own coffee. 

For a moment the two drink in silence, just enjoying their coffee. 

“You wanna talk to me about your dream last night?” Shiro asks, glancing at Keith over the edge of his mug. 

Keith bites his lip and avoids Shiro’s thorough gaze. He fears, that if he were to look at Shiro now, the other would be able to read Keith like an open book. 

“It was just a bad dream. Not a big deal”, Keith huffs, drinking a bit more out of his cup. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Shiro pouts a bit but doesn’t press it further, the room falling back to silence. 

“You said your grandpa used to do the whole cuddling thing with you when you had a bad dream. Were you close with him?” Keith asks, trying to turn the conversation away from himself. 

“Oh, he raised me”, Shiro answers, shrugging. “My parents weren’t around much. Both of them liked to travel. I was a bit too small to go with them, and by the time they would’ve taken me with them, my only interest in travel was the stars”, Shiro explains, his expression turning into a further away one. “It kind of pained me to leave my grandpa behind when I went to study at the Garrison, seeing as it was on the other side of the Earth, but my grandpa always supported me in whatever I wanted to do.” 

“What do you think he’s doing now?” Keith asks, suddenly more curious to hear about the man who raised Shiro. “What was he like?” 

Shiro smiles, clearly enjoying talking about his grandpa. Keith likes the fond smile on Shiro’s face as he tells him: “My grandpa is probably doing what he does best. Taking care of his farm and trying to keep my mother in line. I’d like to not think about how my disappearance affected him.”

Keith silently urges Shiro to go on, and the other seems to realize it. He continues with a sadder smile: “I’m actually japanese, and my grandpa is kind of traditional, yet when I strayed away from it, he didn’t pressure me to be more traditional. He has a strong sense of justice - which I kind of feel he passed on to me.”

Keith has to agree, but silences the ten thousand additional questions that rise within him. 

“My grandpa’s really emotional. He also sends me letters from Japan once a month, usually about normal stuff like what the neighbors are up to or what the cat is doing but that’s what I love about him. He doesn’t feel like there has to be a special reason to send letters, he can just write about non-important things yet still hold a conversation. He’s a bit winded and old, usually forgetful.”

Keith can now see the tears in Shiro’s eyes and scoots a bit closer to offer silent support. Shiro leans a bit closer. 

“My grandpa spent hours and hours painting my room’s ceiling, making it look like a star-filled night sky. He helped me study for every test so I could make it to the garrison and he helped me fill out the entry form. He always sent me pictures about the news clippings he cut out of the news paper, gloating about me to all of his friends.”

Shiro takes a deep breath and places his empty coffee mug on the table. 

“I didn’t realize how much I actually miss him.” 

Keith smiles at Shiro, placing his own mug next to Shiro’s on the table. He wraps his arms around him without hesitation, noticing how Shiro’s shoulders slump at the realization of how much he misses his family. 

“I don’t know who my grandpa is. I have only seen pictures of my mom’s dad, because both of her parents are dead.”

“I’m sorry”, Shiro mumbles. 

“Don’t be. They died a long time before I was born, so long ago not even my mom remembers them too well. I don’t know anything about my dad’s family, I just have one picture of him and my mom. I left it on the Base.”

“You’ll get it back”, Shiro promises. “I’ll make sure you do.” 

Keith smiles at Shiro, easing his hold on the man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah Keith decorated Shiro's mug and Shiro Keith's, what you gonna do about it :P


	21. They left us?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m gonna have a problem with this fan stuff soon”, Hale groans, pushing the last of the teddy bears under the bed. “You want a teddy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see what our three favorite side characters are up to!

Meeri looks up at Hale, both of their gazes tainted with worry. They sit on their beds, looking at the two unoccupied beds on the other side of the room. 

“Do you think they’re okay?” Hale asks quietly, his ears a bit droopy. “I mean… how? Why did they leave? And without us?” 

Meeri is quiet, their big eyes moving from Hale to the two unoccupied beds on the other side of the room. 

“I mean, why would they just ditch us?” Hale questions, shaking his head. “I can’t believe this.” 

“No, they can’t be gone”, Meeri whispers. “They were right there…”, they whimper, shaking a bit. “They wouldn’t just leave us… right? I mean, we're in this together, right?” 

“Meeri…”, Hale whispers and cranes over the space between their beds to place a hand on Meeri’s shoulder. 

“No no no, there’s an explanation to this!” Meeri says a bit louder. “They’re just clocking in a reward or exercising at the gym”, they chuckle. 

Hale is silent for a moment but his hand doesn’t leave Meeri’s shaking shoulder. 

“You know Shiro would never leave his bed like that”, Hale says quietly, nodding to the unmade beds of the two of them. Keith’s pillow has fallen on the floor miserably. 

Their room door opens, surprising both of the two and they spin around, Hale’s hand leaving Meeri’s shoulder. The two look up to a wide-shouldered guard standing in the doorway. 

“It’s time to get up- where are those two?” the guard asks, pausing for a moment. “Where are the Champion and the second half-breed?” 

Hale and Meeri look at each other and back at the guard. 

“We don’t know.” 

-

“For the fifteenth time, we have no idea where those two are!” Hale says, bowing over the table in frustration. The chains he and Meeri are tied to the table with clink with his movements. “They disappeared when we were asleep!” 

Haggar looks unamused from the other side of the table, her shoulders tight and the room filled with anxious air, from both Hale and Haggar. Meeri keeps their eyes closed, as if asleep, even though the rapid rise and fall of their chest says otherwise.

“You must know something!” Haggar groans, standing up. She places her hands on the table and stares at Hale, eye to eye. He flinches away. 

“We don’t!” Meeri finally yells, their voice seething with anger. “They left, and they left without us, how hard is that to understand!?” they yell, standing up as well even when it doesn’t have much effect, as they can barely see over the table.

Haggar is quiet, surprised by Meeri’s outlash. Meeri seems to realize who they just yelled at and sits back down, still angry and with tears in the corner of their eyes.

Haggar takes a calming breath and speaks, more calmly. “I find it hard to believe that those two just abandoned you. Neither of them are the type to fend for themselves.” 

Hale shrugs. “Maybe they just showed their true character. I don’t mean to offend, but any day, if it were offered, I’d be out of here in seconds”, he tells her, sighing. “We really don’t know anything.” 

Haggar sits down and leans back, tilting her head. 

“If I offered you that way out of here you wanted, would it refresh your memory?” the witch asks with a smile. 

Hale sighs wistfully. “It does refresh my memory. Still, nothing!” he yells, hitting the table in frustration. “My apologies, high druid Haggar, but I truly do not know how they got out.” 

Haggar turns to look at Meeri, who flinches when they feel the burn of the witch’s eyes. 

“What about you, little one?”

Meeri just shakes their head, looking down at their hands with a frown, their anger seemingly a bit duller. 

“Fine”, Haggar sighs. “Guards, bring these two to their new living quarters.” 

“What?” Hale asks as the guards haul him up. “What new living quarters?” 

“You only got your upgraded living space because you were… allies with Keith and Shirogane. Now, when the two are gone, you two have no reason to sleep in the apartment. Guards?” 

Hale tries to fight them, wishing for his fan gifts back, yet Meeri goes quietly, their hair falling to their face and their steps unusually loud, hitting the floor with a louder thud then normal. Haggar watches as they leave the room before falling back down on her chair. 

“High priestess!” a druid calls, coming for her aid, but Haggar stops them with a raise of her hand. The druid stops but stays just a tad bit closer, as Haggar leans back on the chair. 

She, once again, tries to reach Keith, to reconnect, but she is met with a solid wall. She lets her consciousness spread, searching the brick wall for cracks or opening, reaching for its end and jumping up to try and get over it. She spends as much energy as she dares, her search frantic and hurried, but finds nothing. Before long she has to pull back to not waste too much of her energy. 

“Find them”, she croaks out to the druid. “I need an Empire-wide search for them. They need to be returned to me, alive.” 

“Yes, high priestess.” 

Haggar watches the druid go with anger in her veins. Just as she is about to go after them and ask to deliver the message herself, her comm beeps from deep within her robes. 

Haggar pulls it out only to see an incoming call from Zarkon. An all-encompassing calm takes her over, as she answers the call from her Emperor. 

“Haggar. What is this I hear of escaped prisoners?” he asks, his tone firm and his eyes judging. 

“Yes, my Emperor. Two prisoners have escaped. The champion and prisoner 510601”, Haggar answers, saying Keith’s code out of memory and without hesitation. “They will be found in no-time, my Emperor.” 

Zarkon grumbles, the sound coming from somewhere deep within his chest. 

“They better be. I don’t like two elite gladiators running free, Haggar. Find them, you have every camera and record of the Empire’s to your usage.” 

“Thank you, my Emperor.” 

The call ends, leaving Haggar in the darkness of the interrogation room. Her white hair glints in the mirror-window’s reflection. Haggar glares at her reflection before exiting, a purpose in her stride. 

-

Hale and Meeri settle into their new bunks. This room is an exact copy of their previous bunk room, just with new inmates. Meeri takes the upper bunk and Hale stick with the lower one, trying to fit all of his stuff under it. 

Meeri sits on the edge, glaring at the ground. 

“I’m gonna have a problem with this fan stuff soon”, Hale groans, pushing the last of the teddy bears under the bed. “You want a teddy?” 

Meeri doesn’t say anything but gives out her arm as Hale places the biggest on he can find on it. Meeri stumbles and has to fumble a bit to not drop it. The toy is almost her size - which is not much considering her overall size but still!

“Thanks”, Meeri grumbles before falling on the bed, coiling around the teddy bear in a tight hug. Hale watches as she quite literally chokes the life out of it, horrified. An eye pops off. 

“Okayy”, Hale says, twitching.

He throws himself on the lower bunk, his eyes sweeping over the room. It’s half-filled with all sorts of people, but non spike his interest as much as Keith did. Nor Shiro, for that matter.

Both of the men had that something in them, that something that immediately differentiated them from the rest of the goons. For Keith, Hale’s pretty sure it was the sheer professionalism of the guy. Keith always acted and moved like he knew exactly what he was doing. He always had that glint in his eyes: the glint of a warrior. Of someone who’d, maybe not faced worse, but faced something almost as bad before. 

There was also the glint of murder, on the occasion, but that one’s more popular. 

Shiro, on the other hand, was a brand new thing. Sure, Keith was half human, but you couldn’t really tell that he was. Shiro on the other hand was something Hale had never seen before. Also, the guy was like, way too compassionate to be a criminal. 

There was also something about the way he fought. Shiro was clearly not much trained, only the basics perhaps, but there was something natural about him. Something animalistic, almost, but not the Galra kind of animalistic. 

The human kind of animalistic, it must be, because it’s the exact same thing Hale saw flash in Keith on the occasion.

Keith is the professional in that area as well. In every move he makes (whether it’s during a battle or in the normal) the years of experience he must have is clear, in the purpose of his walk yet the uncertainty of his next move. On the arena he’s like a predator - ruthless and efficient. 

Hale sighs and closes his eyes. 

-

Meeri tries to stop the tears but can’t. They curse themselves for becoming closer with Keith - or Shiro for that matter. They can’t understand what made them actually believe Keith or Shiro would stay around, because, well, no one ever does. 

Meeri still remembers the empty bed of her older brother that fateful morning. They still remember the full beds of their parents - although the sheets were stained with red, the blanket shredded. Meeri remembers staring into both their mother’s empty eyes.

They turn around, dragging the teddy bear with them. It will be just a matter of time until Hale’s gone too, leaving behind an empty bed, no matter what way he goes. 

Because that’s life. No one will never stick around for Meeri, no one will ever care enough to do so. 

Meeri clutches the teddy bear a bit harder, fully aware that any living person would probably have choked by now. They can’t be bothered to care, though. The teddy won’t leave them, at least.

Why did Keith leave them? Does he really not care enough to stay? Or to invite them along? 

Meeri frowns, pretty sure Shiro and Keith weren’t even that close. Or as close as Meeri and Keith. If Keith would’ve asked Meeri to leave they would’ve, even if that meant leaving Shiro and Hale behind. 

Meeri punches the teddy bear for good measure, imagining that it’s Keith’s arm. Then they kick it between its legs, imagining that it’s Shiro right there. It makes them feel a tiny bit better. 

-

That night Haggar can be found sitting in a room, the edges of it filled with quintessence. Haggar sits on the floor, her legs crossed under her robes. Her hands are out on her sides and two balls of quintessence are forming in them, lighting up her form.

Haggar attack’s Keith’s walls with as much power as she can muster, doing whatever she can to bring them down. Her prodding is not too strong, so it will just stay on the back of Keith’s mind, not bringing him to attention until it’s too late to resist. Haggar focuses on a singular point in the wall, slowly adding more and more pressure. 

She sits there for days, her answers to the druids sometimes passing by automatic, as most of her consciousness is in work, slowly drilling through Keith’s wall. 

It’s the third day, when Haggar has made it halfway. She smiles to herself, noting that this is too easy to be true. 

That is when Keith notices her. 

The reaction is instant, not giving Haggar time to prod faster. Piles upon piles of further wall are placed behind the wall Haggar was previously drilling, making it quite impossible for her to reach Keith. 

She growls and pulls away as the hole she drills closes up on itself. She withdraws from the bond, the last of the feelings of Keith gone. She can no longer feel him go further and further away - the only indication of the bond’s existence in the first place is a small trace of something, maybe there and maybe not. Keith’s walls are too thick for anything to come through. 

Haggar leaves the room, fuming. 

She needs a good, satisfying success.


	22. Painting and... a kiss?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you two done playing? Is the ship painted?” she asks, looking as amused as ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shameless self-insert here :>

The base is an actual base, Shiro realizes, when they got close enough to the moon to really be able to picture it’s size. The base is located on one of the planet’s three small moons: the planet itself is colored in a beautiful swirl of blues and grays, a water planet according to Keith. 

The base is a modern one, clearly just renovated. The brand new paint shimmers in the light of the sun, about the same distance from the planet as Earth is from it’s own. The base’s center is circle-shaped, most of it made of one-sided windows, just mirrors to them on the outside. The main circle has a bunch of different buildings branching off of it, some even going off the edge of the crater close by. 

“The base of Qus is one of the largest the Blades have affiliated themselves with. We get away with it, because it is filled with civilians and the moon belongs to the planet, Haerm, which have made a peaceful deal with Zarkon. They will provide the Empire with very expensive and rare seaweed, which their seas are filled with, in exchange for complete freedom and the Empire’s minimal affiliation in their lives. For example, the Empire is not allowed to arrest or kill anyone on the planet or on any of its moons. Convenient for us, especially when as backup for Haerm in case of any war threats, we get our share of the seaweed as well.”

“Sounds like a good deal”, Shiro points out. “How in the hell did they get Zarkon to agree? How much is the seaweed worth and why couldn’t Zarkon just take it?” 

Keith grimaces. “It’s very complicated, to be honest. But to make it simple, the deal was made a long time ago, when the other royal families, apart from Zarkon’s, had a play with the Empire’s business. One member of a royal family was together with the planet’s leader, then, and when Zarkon threatened the planet that specific royal family was devastated and threatened to pull their forces from the Empire, which was a lot of soldiers back then, so Zarkon decided that it was more beneficial for him to agree to their terms than to fight it out.”

“Why wouldn’t he just… I don’t know, break the deal? You said it happened a long while ago.”

“Well that there is a political minefield Zarkon would rather not explore. After all, the royal family is still going strong. Besides, Zarkon gets what he wants. So be it.” 

The whole explanation had taken the entire time for them to get to the base, so now they were in a hurry to change. 

“Won’t there be a problem with people trying to escape the Empire here? I mean, we can’t be the only ones here with a similar background”, Shiro wonders as they change in the living room, both facing opposite corners of the room, a slight blush on Shiro’s cheeks at the thought of Keith half-naked and right there, all he would have to do is just turn around and-

“The fact that the Empire doesn’t have power here, doesn’t mean there is no law-enforcement. Don’t worry, though, the two of us are under the protection of the Blade of Marmora, they won’t arrest us.” 

When they board the base they’re welcomed by a swarm of what Shiro can only guess are Blade of Marmora agents, by their uniforms and the way the all seem to know who Keith is. 

Keith is pulled in for many hugs and clapped on the back countless times. He answers to every greeting with a smile and keeps on answering questions. 

Shiro starts to feel a bit jealous, watching Keith interact with the blades. He’s gotten used to always being around Keith and the center of his attention, not cast aside like this by people Keith clearly used to know. 

Some people come introduce themselves to Shiro too, but noticeably less than Keith. The only one Shiro bothers to remember is Karley, the one in charge of the base. 

After a while Karley commands the Blades off to continue their work, immediately calming Shiro’s nerves. Something eases in Keith too, the other sighing thankfully and slouching a bit.

Karley smiles and pulls Keith into a hug, a sincere smile on her face. “It is so nice to see you again, kit.” 

Keith chuckles at the nickname: “I’m not a kit anymore, y’know.” 

Karley pulls back, yet keeps her surprisingly stumpy fingers on Keith’s shoulders. Something sad flashes in her eyes. “No, no you are not.” Then the woman jumps out of her own thoughts, moving back a step, her green hair glimmering in the light of the hangar. 

“So, you’re here for a new ship?” she asks, tilting her chin. 

“We were thinking of a new paint job, actually”, Shiro jumps in, feeling the need to do something. Karley eyes him quickly, yet her eyes don’t wander on his scars nor the white flock of hair on his forehead, like most people. Shiro’s not sure if it’s a good thing or not. 

“Ah. Already settled in?” Karley asks and a smile plays on her scarred lips. Shiro notices the scarred factor only now, as the woman’s lips look like someone's tried to scrape them off. A shiver runs through Shiro and he averts his gaze, yet Karley has already noticed it. “I know it looks bad, but it happened a long time ago. It’s become a part of me, now, like the scars over your noses have become a part of you.” 

Shiro jolts in surprise and glances at Keith, who frowns. “I keep on forgetting that we have matching scars.” 

“See?” Karley smiles. “Our faults become a part of us surprisingly quickly. Now, a new paint job, you say? What color do you want, I’ve got some options.” 

Karley leads them to a car wash-like room and into a side room next to it. The control panel is filled with different color options and textures. 

“This room will take care of most of it. All we have to do is cover up the places we don’t want covered and paint the small parts ourselves. Now, what color?” 

Keith and Shiro loom over the control board. 

“Well, for one, bright colors are out of the picture”, Keith reasons. “We can’t track too much attention.” 

Shiro hums. “Black is way too dark, and so is dark blue.” 

For a moment the two stand in silence. Karley looks at the two of them, amused. They seem to work in perfect harmony, both of their eyes going through the colors at a similar pace and order. 

It has been years since the last time she saw Keith. He was around fifteen then, when she was twenty, just promoted to her new position as the leader of the base on Qus. And Keith was just a little blade, trying to find his spot in the organization. The half-galra had been small, but filled with determination to compensate for what the other half of him couldn’t in galra standards. 

Now she watches the young man with a certain sense of realization of how much things have changed. Keith has grown longer, no longer barely reaching her chest, but towering her in height. Keith is no longer filled with the kind of determination he used to: the childish and naive determination has changed into a determination with much more realistic goals and experience behind the reasons for those goals. 

The development is good, but it has also come with downsides. 

The amount of trauma Keith has must be huge, Karley can see it from Keith’s eyes. The scar over the bridge of his nose that Karley knows comes from the muzzle, the other countless scars that must litter the rest of Keith’s carefully covered body. 

It saddens Karley, but she has long ago learnt that there is no fighting against fate. 

-

In the end the ship ends up being maroon red with black accents - taking note of both of their favorite colors. 

Most of the ship is painted by the machine, but some corners and spots are left unpainted, leaving Keith and Shiro with the job of finishing the red and adding the fine details. 

It takes a few hours, as they paint the ship in one of the closed-off halls. It also ruins both of their clothes and gets everywhere, but where would the fun be in being clean. Keith ends up painting his hand and placing his handprints on Shiro’s back. The other man does not hesitate to answer them with handprints of his own, anywhere he can reach. Shiro ends up chasing Keith around the hall, both of them giggling like little kids. 

In the end the ship becomes quite cool-looking, as Shiro and Keith look up at it with pride in their eyes. 

“Oh- you’ve got something there”, Shiro mutters, instinctively moving to wipe the black paint off of Keith’s chin, without thinking of the fact that his fingers are paint-covered as well. He ends up just making a bigger mess - and now Keith’s face is decorated with not only black paint but with red as well. 

Keith looks at Shiro with a devious glimmer in his eyes. 

“Well, you’ve got something there too”, Keith says, reaching to wipe some paint over Shiro’s forehead. The other man acts scandalized and gasps over-dramatically. 

“How could you? My gorgeous forehead!” Shiro groans, placing a hand over it, just smudging the paint even further. 

Keith breaks into a laugh, startling Shiro. 

He had imagined this laugh, maybe too many times, sure, but nothing Shiro could ever imagine will compare to the real thing.

Keith’s face twists, crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes. The laugh rings in the almost-empty hall, echoing in Shiro’s ears. Keith clutches his stomach, it hurting too much from laughing. The laugh quiets down, but when Keith looks back at Shiro it starts again, Keith now bending down, clutching his stomach. 

Shiro just stands there, staring, like a lovestruck-fool. 

Keith stands up, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, smudging a bit more of paint over his nose. 

More things done without thinking are done, as Keith leans forward and presses a kiss to Shiro’s cheek. 

Now it’s really the time for Shiro to stare like a lovestruck-fool, as his mouth opens slightly and his eyebrows rise to pretty much his hairline. 

Keith seems to realize what he has done as well, scrambling to find something to say. 

A loud cough from the door sets the two men apart, both of them spinning around to see, who is at the door. 

Karley stands there, a bit awkward. 

“Are you two done playing? Is the ship painted?” she asks, looking as amused as ever. 

“Yes commander! I mean yeah, we’re done, I mean… uhh”, Keith scrambles. Shiro is frozen, too many things circling around in his head at the same time to be able to form a proper sentence. 

“Well, good, since I’m here to show you to your rooms. You have to stay overnight to let the paint dry.” 

“Sure!” Keith answers, grabbing Shiro by the wrist to pull him along. The touch sends sparks through his human arm as he struggles to keep up with Keith. “Lead the way!” 

-

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid! 

Keith groans again, for like the hundredth time in the past ten doboshes. He just came from a very cleaning shower, which means he now has time to wonder about what in the fuck he just did. 

I mean sure, joking around and goofing with Shiro was fine, normal, but kissing him like that? Like, you know, romantically! 

Keith groans again, flopping down on the bed in his room. Karley had (thankfully) provided them with two rooms, so Keith wouldn’t have to face his stupidity just yet. The room is big and came with Keith’s own bathroom, so he could barricade himself into the room for the rest of the evening. 

There was no way he could even look at Shiro after that. 

What made him do that! What!! WHY!! 

Keith hits himself in the face with his pillow a few times for good measure before calming, laying on the bed. The ceiling is made of some dark-colored material, small sprinkles of stars embedded into the material, except the spots of color are gold and white, distincting it from the stars enough for it to seem magical. Keith puts all of his efforts into looking at the ceiling, not thinking about the fact that he k i s s e d Shiro. 

And yeah, it was just on the cheek, but it was no “Bro” kiss. No no no nooooo. 

Keith facepalms, surprised at how soft his skin feels after the luxurious body wash, shampoo and conditioner of the place. He might have to sneak in some bottles for the rest of the journey.

Now, he tells himself. We sleep. 

Yeah, Keith does not fall asleep immediately. 

But when he eventually does, his dreams are confusing and weird, filled with smoke, silhouettes and voices. The voices are the ones that plague him the most. 

“Come back”, Meeri whispers. 

“Come back”, Haggar orders. 

“Come back”, Hale begs. 

“Come back”, a dozen of voices Keith barely recognizes as his previous bunk mates. 

“Come back.” 

The last voice is a voice that sends chills down Keith’s spine. Zarkon’s voice will never be unrecognizable, and even now he freezes, expecting the tyrant to show up in his dream. 

“Keith.” 

Now that voice is different. It’s soft and recognizable… not fitting for the dream. 

“Keith?” 

And again. 

“Keith, wake up.” 

Wait, wake up?

Keith opens his eyes to his room, the sky sparkling in the dim lighting of the bedside lamp next to him. He squints up to see who woke him up. 

“Shiro?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end of this part of the Twists of fate (Oh yeah, the series has an actual name now, yay!) which means fun times for you but not so much for me :'). When we enter Voltron's actual canon, I will have to re-watch the entire series (pray for me) and basically rewrite the entire storyline. I have ambition, I know :D So when we eventually reach the end of Twists of fate 1 I'm going to have to take a bit of a break to get the draft of the storyline done (because maybe I possibly have been procrastinating doing it this entire time). 
> 
> However, for now, just enjoy the last of the chapters! Every comment and kudos reaches me and gives me more inspiration to finish this! You guys are awesome :)
> 
> Also, tell me if you want to know more about me, aka Karley, who has been through as much shit as I want us to! SPOILERS it's a lot. Heh. Heh. Heh. Heh... heh.


	23. These two really like to cuddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith wakes up to something heavy over him, momentarily panicking, before he remembers the previous night and realizes that it’s just Shiro.

Keith’s slumbering form is still, for once, as Shiro enters quietly. His hands are still shaking and his legs barely hold him up anymore, but he still walked that ten feet from his room on the other side of the hall to here. 

Flashes of the nightmare still haunt him, when he approaches Keith, but it doesn’t feel so… lonely, anymore. 

“Keith”, Shiro whispers, knowing that the other is an impossibly light sleeper, but the other man just grumbles something unintelligible. 

“Keith?” Shiro whispers again, a bit louder. The other man shifts in his sleep but doesn’t wake up.

There is no way Shiro’s going back to his room after that nightmare, even if his grandpa would call him a baby for the rest of the week. He needs Keith - Shiro hasn’t slept so well with anyone but him. 

“Keith, wake up”, he says now, not bothering to whisper, since Keith is clearly deep asleep. The other man jolts, opening the yellow orbs that are his eyes. The black irises adjust to the light, changing into big black orbs, making the very dangerous agent look like a kitten. 

“Shiro?” The man rasps, moving up an arm and rubbing it over his eyes. “What are you doing here?” 

“I…”, Shiro struggles to admit it, yet has no other chance but to yield under Keith’s concerned kitten eyes. “I had a nightmare.” 

Immediately Keith’s expression softens. The other man shuffles a bit on his wide bed, moving to the opposite edge from where Shiro is standing. Then he opens the blanket, patting the bed next to him. 

Shiro sighs thankfully, laying down next to the other man. 

“I hope you don’t mind having only one blanket”, Keith huffs, as the two try and settle down comfortably. Keith’s bed might be wide, but not any wider than the one they have on their ship. 

“I think this’ll work”, Shiro answers, turning sideways, so his and Keith’s shoulders actually fit on the bed. Keith chuckles, turning sideways as well. 

For a moment they lay there, in comfortable silence. Shiro studies Keith’s eyes, ever so spooky looking, yet when they’re ‘kittened out’ like this, he doesn’t mind.

“Wanna talk to me about it?” Keith asks, moving his arm up to play with the overgrown hair around Shiro’s ear. His legs press against Shiro and he hopes his blush isn’t too visible in the dim light of Keith’s room. Although, the other seems a bit sleepy, his eyes looking a bit unfocused. 

“I… aren’t you tired?” Shiro asks, trying to avoid the subject. 

“You could just say no”, Keith shoots back, clearly speaking without the normal filter. “But if you won’t talk about yours, I’ll talk to you about mine.” 

Shiro’s eyes widen. “You were having a nightmare too?” 

Keith nods, his eyes focusing on Shiro’s. The twinkle from yesterday is gone. Keith is completely serious. 

“It’s already a bit hasty”, Keith begins giving Shiro a shaky smile, contradicting his statement. “I remember fog and smoke, and figures, but mostly the voices.” 

“The voices?” 

Keith nods. “Voices of people I know. People from the Arena, telling me to come back. I think it may be Haggar.” 

“What?” Shiro asks, frowning. “How could Haggar do that?” 

Keith takes a deep breath before explaining: “I got my transformation genes from a blood transfusion, from her. And she’s an altean, so, there.” 

Shiro is surprised, but his eyes glint with questions. 

“Go on. Ask.” 

Shiro takes a deep breath, moving to sit. Keith chuckles. 

“So you mean like, you have Haggar’s blood running through your veins? I thought the alteans went extinct? But how does that have to do anything with your nightmare? Do alteans have spooky mind powers, too?” 

Keith grins at Shiro’s questions, even when his tiredness is starting to weigh on his eyelids. 

“Yes, I guess not, I’ll explain in a second and probably.” 

Shiro tilts his head. 

“When Haggar… transferred blood, she damaged my bond with my mom. You remember what bonds are?” 

Shiro nods, remembering Keith talking about bonds at some point during their journey. 

“So, I am no longer bonded to my mother, as Haggar replaced her with herself.” 

There is a moment of silence. “What”, is Shiro’s whisper. Then something twists in his expression, going from surprise to anger. “Aren’t the bonds like sacred or something?” 

Keith nods, tears starting to swell in his eyes. He forbids them. He’s supposed to be over this already, goddamnit. 

“So she meddled with sacred mind-bonds. So, do you like, have a space witch continuously in your brain? Should I be worried for your mental health?” 

Keith’s chest warms when Shiro reveals his order of business, the first thing being worrying about Keith’s mental health, not his own safety. God, this man. 

“Well, no. I built a wall between us-”, Keith starts, but is stopped by Shiro’s snicker. “What?” 

“Nothing, nothing. Continue”, Shiro says, moving his arm in a ‘go on’ gesture. He does, however, mumble “I will build a wall.” under his breath in a weird voice. 

“Anyway”, Keith continues “I made an obstacle that will stop her from getting into my head. She is trying to get through pretty often though”, something flashes in Keith’s eyes. “But I’ll make sure she won’t. If she would it would have… bad consequences.” 

“How bad?” Shiro asks, tilting his head. Keith looks up from his hands, which he’d been fiddling with, to Shiro’s eyes.

“She could track my position. For now, the only time she has any kind of control is during my dreams, but if my walls break I’ll be vulnerable to her influence, even control, if she is as strong as I fear. Right now, though, she’s not trying to get in. She’s just there, searching for a crack in my defense.” 

The two sit in silence for a moment, Shiro biting his lip in thought .

“Would something help… like, to defend yourself? Is there something I could do?” 

Keith thinks for a moment before huffing. “Well, for one, you could let me sleep.” 

Shiro opens his mouth to apologize, but Keith lifts his finger to silence the other man. “Then, secondly”, suddenly Keith moves his arms, coiling them around Shiro, pulling the other man back down with him. Shiro let’s out an oomph, landing half over Keith. “Cuddles would be nice.” 

Shiro chuckles, his voice muffled as it is pressed against Keith’s chest. 

“Then cuddles you shall receive”, he says, somehow coiling his own arms around Keith’s waist. 

They quiet down, Shiro feeling quite comfortable on Keith. Keith’s breaths are controlled and even, but Shiro is pretty sure he can hear Keith’s heart thundering next to his ear. Not that Shiro’s poor heart isn’t doing the same, though.

They both sleep without nightmares for the rest of the night. 

-

Keith wakes up to something heavy over him, momentarily panicking, before he remembers the previous night and realizes that it’s just Shiro. 

Keith is unable to control his yawn and stretch, shaking Shiro awake too. 

“Gmorn”, Shiro mutters and sighs, rolling off of Keith. He misses the weight, but he has to get up too. The clock on the bedside table is showing 6 o'clock and they agreed to meet Karley at breakfast around six thirty. 

“We gotta get up, Shiro”, Keith groans, moving to slide off of the bed. Shiro groans, burying himself deeper into the sheets.

“Five more minuteees”, Shiro groans from somewhere under his pillow. 

“You have the time it takes for me to shower”, is Keith’s answer, as he heads for his bathroom, unreasonably sweaty. 

Keith takes his time, yet still manages to waste ten minutes in the shower, rubbing the good-smelling hair products into his scalp. He seriously considers stealing the bottles, but doesn’t want to annoy Karley. Maybe they should ask her about those. 

Keith comes out of the shower, pulling on some clothes from the suitcase on the floor. He chooses a loose hoodie and semi-tight pants, giving him movement ability and comfortableness, while not needing to be held up by a belt. Keith is still a bit sleepy when he pulls the hoodie on, not bothering to notice what it looks like, even though it smells a bit off. 

Then he goes to brush his teeth, finally able to look at himself in the mirror. 

There are dark circles under his eyes, but not too dark to seem unnatural. His hair is a bit messy, but a quick brush is enough to get it to settle. He pulls it up into a loose ponytail, making sure his ears have enough maneuverability to be comfortable, even though he likes to keep them stiff in public.

Keith starts to leisurely brush his teeth, only now bothering to look at his half-blindly chosen outfit. 

And he’s wearing Shiro’s hoodie. 

The fact makes Keith stop brushing his teeth for a second. He tries to figure out, what in the hell Shiro’s hoodie is doing in his suitcase, and he even checks the suitcases to see that this is literally the only piece of Shiro’s clothing in the wrong place. 

Keith is just about to ditch it, when the bathroom door creaks open and Shiro enters, rubbing tiredness from his eyes. 

“God, I am tired-”, Shiro stars, but stops when he sees what Keith is wearing. “So that’s where that went.” 

“I swear I had no idea what it was doing in my suitcase”, Keith protests, as he returns to brushing his teeth to occupy himself. Shiro pulls out a second toothbrush from the cabinet. 

“No worries. Looks good on you.” 

And there it goes, now Keith will have to wear the hoodie for the rest of the day. It’s the law.

“So, breakfast?” Shiro asks, his voice a bit raspy from sleep. Keith quickly finishes, spitting out the excess toothpaste. 

“Yeah. And then we head out.” 

Keith goes and packs up the suitcases while Shiro brushes his teeth, the two working in silence. Keith blinks a few times, realizing how domestic the situation is. It makes him chuckle silently. 

“I was wondering”, Shiro begins, shaking Keith out of his thoughts. “Did you use a different shampoo or something?” 

“Why do you ask?” Keith questions, his gaze flickering to the direction of the amazingly good-smelling bottles of whatever wonder Karley has managed to get into Keith’s room. 

“I dunno. You just smell really good.” 

And with that, Shiro is out of the bathroom. 

Keith stuffs every bottle of that smell he can find into his suitcase. Fuck etiquette, he’s taking ‘em.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow sudden inspiration boost to get this part done! We're really close here, one or two chapters maybe left anymore, woo!


	24. What are we

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That’s great. Wonderful, a clear plan”, Shiro groans, placing his human hand over his face and rubbing his nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon galran culture incoming! One of my favorite things about worldbuilding, so this might get a little bit long and I will be returning to the subject in later chapters.

Keith and Shiro part off secretly, with a tight hug from Karley. Shiro is surprised to receive his own hug, but the catch is revealed to him when Karley whispers: “If you hurt him I will track you down and kill you myself”, pulls back and smiles. 

Shiro is shaking in his boots. 

“Okay, bye!” Keith yells, waving at the young woman from the door before closing it and going for the controls. 

“You wanna pilot?” Keith asks, looking up at Shiro, who is already prepared to watch Keith maneuver them out of the tight-fit hangar. Shiro’s fingers twitch at the suggestion but his brain stops his body. 

“I don’t think that’d be a good idea. The controls are different and in a language I don’t know how to read.” 

Keith only shrugs: “Suit yourself.” 

But Shiro would like to pilot, and his heart aches for the controls, even when his mind knows that the only thing that's going come out of that is disaster. 

He hasn’t piloted anything since Kerberos, which must’ve been almost a year ago. 

Keith pilots until they’re a good distance away from Haerm and Qus, then setting the ship to autopilot. Shiro feels closer to home every second. 

Keith stands and looks at Shiro, a serious glint in his eyes. “We need to talk.” 

And, you know, those words are something no one wants to hear, like, ever, so almost every hair on Shiro’s body is standing when he follows his half-galra companion to the living area. 

Keith splays himself on the couch, sitting oddly on his side, pointing Shiro to sit on the couch too. He mirrors Keith’s position, finding himself face to face with Keith. 

“We have to make a few things clear”, Keith says, sighing. “It’ll take about two weeks to get to Earth if we make it smoothly. If not, that two weeks could stretch into a month.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“We need to pass through a star system. We’ll be just gracing the edge of it, but because where Earth is is somewhat new galran territory, it’ll be a bit more challenging to avoid the guards, especially if they’ve pieced out where we’re going. I don’t want to go around it, but I may not have any other options. Then after that there’s an asteroid field which might be possible to get through or not. I don’t know yet.” 

“Okay.”

For a moment the two sit in silence, Keith clearly thinking about what to say next. Shiro waits patiently. He has nothing but time. 

“Also, two other things”, Keith starts. “I want to talk about how we’re going to proceed when we get to Earth.” 

Shiro wonders about that and grimaces, imagining the Garrison’s reaction when a missing deep-space pilot returns with an alien ship and a half-alien. “Yeah, we’ll have to be delicate with that. Earth hasn’t had any official alien contacts. And highlight, official.”

Keith nods. “My mother told me she had to keep hidden, which was a bit easier because they were in the desert.”

“Did she mention where? Didn’t she come to Earth to protect the Blue Lion?” 

Keith shakes his head. “I think my dad was something called an american?” 

“Kogane is not a common surname for an american”, Shiro points out. “It’s not impossible, though. What did he look like?” 

Keith scrunches his eyebrows, digging around his head for the memory. He stands up and searches around a cabinet, Shiro eyeing him, confused. 

Keith pulls out some paper and a pen, surprising Shiro. “When did you…?” 

Keith smirks. “Courtesy of Karley.” 

Keith is fast and really good, Shiro notices, as he watches the man draw. He is out of practice for sure, but the drawing still looks a lot better than what Shiro can muster. 

“Sort of like this? He had a darker skintone.”  
The man in the drawing is square-jawed, with a small scar over one of his eyebrows. He has a bit of a stubble and a very western face otherwise.

“Okay. I think we can probably guess he’s american. So if the Blue Lion was in a desert I can show you a place to land in the USA with a lot of them. Could we track it?” 

Keith shrugs. “Maybe if we had someone with the right device to track the Lion’s special quintessence trail. Otherwise, I may be able to sense something, but I’ve never been close enough to a Lion to try, so probably not.” 

“You’ve never been close to the Red Lion? Didn’t you mention Zarkon trying out possible paladins for it like, constantly?” 

Keith shakes his head. “I was still too inexperienced to go, according to Kolivan. Besides, the Blades are not interested in finding a pilot for the lion, just keeping tabs on it is enough for now. And the other lions, of course. If we were to start pilot them it would mean an all-out war and I don’t think us blades have enough resources for that. Also, we haven’t been able to locate the Castle of Lions nor the Black Lion, which is rumored to be inside of it. And if Zarkon hasn’t found it, I doubt the Blades will.” 

“But we’re getting the Lion now?” 

Keith sighs. “The prophets told us to. Who are we to argue?” 

“These prophets sound like a big deal? What’s so special about them?” Shiro asks, tilting his head. 

Keith draws his ears back, like Shiro just insulted him, but then calms himself by reminding himself that Shiro doesn’t know about his culture, just like he doesn’t know about Shiro’s. 

“The prophets have existed longer than Zarkon”, Keith starts and Shiro’s eyes widen. “They have been here from the begins of the Universe, they have watched races fall and rise like the sun does from a planet’s point of view. There are three of them, that were once a big part of galran culture. Now, Zarkon has forbidden their worship, denied the galra of their religion. These three women, called Marmora, Opeia and Zarena used to be like gods. They are stuck between realities, being able to go from one reality to other, yet never able to go fully through to the other side.” 

“Marmora? Is that where the name comes from?” 

Keith nods, flicking his ear. “Marmora is the god the founders of the Blade of Marmora worshiped. She used to be the ‘goddess’ of deception and secrets. Her personality is the most healthiest of the three: she is a realist, as Opeia is a light-hearted optimist and Zarena a war god, always expecting an another fight, an another challenger. Zarkon’s name is a bend of her’s, which is an oddly fitting name choice by his parents, whoever they were.” 

“How do you know all of this?” Shiro asks, his eyes round in curiosity. 

Keith smiles a wry smile. “It is all carefully documented in the Blade base’s library. I used to spend a lot of time there when I was younger, when Kolivan forbid me to train for the day. I read through those ancient recordings perhaps too many times for my own good.” 

“So that’s why you know so much about Voltron?” Shiro asks, interested. “What else could the Blade of Marmora library offer you?” 

Keith sighs wistfully and looks up at the ceiling. “Thousands upon thousands of pages about ancient civilizations, of ancient wars, of ancient people. The Empire’s entire history can be found in there, with both paper and digital versions, the digital included with a voice search mode, covering the near ten thousand years of reign with perfection and as much accuracy as can be expected. It has tens of books about Zarkon, even more about the Alteans. It also has recordings of Blade members, of their family trees. I once tracked my own family tree up as far as I could, and found out my ancestors had been one of the core members of the Blade from when it was first created.” 

Shiro smiles as he hears the enthusiasm in Keith’s voice. “I spent countless nights coiled up in that library, and even if I spent a countless more, I could not read through all of it.” 

“That sounds nice”, Shiro agrees. 

Keith hums and the two fall into a comfortable silence. 

“Would you teach me more? I want to know about galran culture.” 

“Why’s that?” Keith asks, turning to look back at Shiro. “Not many people bother to invest in the culture of a race painted as brutes and murderers.” 

Shiro shrugs. “Maybe that’s exactly why. I want to know if they really are as brutal everywhere. If everyone is as messed up, which I already know they aren’t”, Shiro shoots a smile at Keith. “I’m curious, to know how the galrans shaped up to be the race that they are.” 

“Huh”, Keith says. “I’ll agree if you, in turn, teach me some human history.” 

Shiro smirks: “Deal.” 

The two shake hands for the fun of it, before falling into an another silence before Keith chuckles. “We really got off-track here, didn’t we?” 

Shiro laughs, agreeing with a nod. 

“So our game plan is get down, try and track the Lion. Then what? Do the prophets explain further?” 

Keith frowns, trying to remember what Ulaz asked him to do. “I think the Lion will tell us?” 

“That’s great. Wonderful, a clear plan”, Shiro groans, placing his human hand over his face and rubbing his nose. 

Keith chuckles. “I know you don’t have the same fate in the prophets as I do, but trust me. If those three say it’s going to work out, it will.” 

“How do they know anyway?” Shiro asks. “They’re stuck between the realities, cool, but how does that make them see the future?” he wonders, scratching his chin. 

“I don’t know. Maybe you should ask them when you meet them”, Keith says, fiddling with his hands, clearly prepared to move on with the subject. Shiro, however, doesn’t notice. 

“I’ll meet them?” 

“At some point”, is Keith’s answer. The shortness and secretiveness of it makes Shiro glance at the other man, now realizing how the mood had changed. 

“Ok. What else did you want to talk about?” Shiro asks, trying to smoothly change the subject, but kind of failing. Keith jumps at the opportunity though. 

“Right. The third thing was… well… us.” 

“Us?” Shiro asks, his eyebrows rising. “What about us?” 

“I… some things are unclear. Between us”, Keith explains a bit awkwardly, pointing to the general area between them on the couch. 

“Like… the kiss?” Shiro asks, biting the inside of his cheek. Keith twists at the mention of the kiss. 

“Like the kiss, yes.” 

“So…”, Shiro tries but can’t find the words. “What’s the uncertain part?” 

Keith finally looks at Shiro, having avoided the other’s eye contact for like the last three minutes. “The uncertain part? EVERYTHING, SHIRO”, Keith groans. “I don’t know much about how humans view relationship and I have no idea how far that is from what us galrans think but kissing is definitely not a bro thing to do in our culture.”

Shiro gulps, silently admitting: “It’s not really a bro thing in ours either.”

“So?” Keith asks. “What… is there something here? Between us?” he groans, pointing between them again with a frustrated tone of voice. 

“Would you like there to be…?” Shiro whispers, not really knowing what to do. He knows his own feelings, for sure, his heart further confirming them (seeing as it is beating about a hundred beats per second by now) 

Keith glares at him. “What the fuck did you think I kissed you for? For friendship?” 

Shiro huffs and does what could possibly be the most irrational thing he has done in the past few weeks. He grabs Keith by the edge of the hoodie he’s wearing, which so happens to still be Shiro’s, and kisses him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EHehhehehhe >:)


	25. Someday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let me guess”, Keith starts, dragging Shiro’s attention from the top of Keith’s head back to his face. “You want to touch them?”

Kissing Shiro is something Keith had, shamefully imagined a few times, yet no imagination could even be close to the real thing. 

Shiro clearly knows what he’s doing, far from the teens Keith has made out with. The kiss is airy and Shiro is careful, even when he was the one to pull Keith in the hold on the edge of his hoodie is light, giving Keith the space to pull away at any time he wants. 

But Keith has no intentions of doing so. The kiss is not sloppy, like a teen’s, and it’s not forceful like what the galran officers sometimes did to him. Shiro is gentle and careful, letting Keith set the pace. 

After a moment Keith pulls back, trying to find his breath, which had mysteriously disappeared. He raises a hand to his lips without thinking, trying to savour the last moments of the kiss. 

“Was that… okay?” Shiro hesitantly asks. “I haven’t done this in a while.”

Keith has the guts to look at Shiro instead of the floor and finds himself surprised, as the human likes to make him be. 

Shiro is blushing from head to toe, getting closer and closer to bright red by the second, especially when Keith’s gaze lands on his eyes.

But Shiro’s hesitant too, made obvious by his body language. His hands have frozen in midair and his mouth is a bit open, his shoulders hunched. 

Keith chuckles. “It was great.” 

That’s when Shiro beams, sending Keith’s heart into a brief exercise of various gymnastic movements. He comes closer, asking for permission with his eyes. 

Keith nods, letting Shiro push him back (with ever-gentle movements) until Keith is laying down on the couch, Shiro floating over him. 

Shiro presses an another kiss on Keith’s lips, briefly this time, before moving his arms over his head, question clearly on his tongue. 

“Let me guess”, Keith starts, dragging Shiro’s attention from the top of Keith’s head back to his face. “You want to touch them?” 

“...Yeah”, Shiro sheepishly admits. 

Keith lets out a sigh. “Fine. Do it, find out what happens.” 

Shiro’s eyes glimmer with excitement and Keith flicks his ears. He looks up, carefully watching Shiro’s expression. A grin spreads over his face, anxiously waiting to see Shiro’s reaction. 

Shiro moves his hand slowly, even when Keith can sense it coming before it’s even close to his ear. He keeps them painfully still, even when he urges to flick Shiro’s fingers away. 

The first touch is like an electric shot through Keith, in a good way. He doesn’t bother to stop the breathy moan escaping his lips when Shiro’s fingers brush the side of it. 

Shiro freezes and looks down like a deer caught in headlights, his eyes widened in surprise. 

Keith grins up at him and winks, the wink turning into an another moan when Shiro curiously touches his ear again. 

“Are they really… that sensitive?” Shiro asks, now stroking the ear carefully. 

“Y-yeah”, Keith admits. “Not a lot of people touch them, it’s kind of a forbidden thing. Not even Haggar did, I think.” 

“And you let me?” Shiro asks, letting go of Keith’s ear. His breathing slows when the constant input of feel-good stops. 

Keith grabs Shiro’s arm, placing it on his chin, leaning against it. Keith finds that his face fits very nicely into Shiro’s palm. 

“I guess I did.” 

Shiro chuckles and places his other arm on Keith’s face, the metal feeling pleasantly cold against Keith’s admittedly hot face. He’s glad Shiro won’t see his blush through the soft purple-shaded skin. 

Shiro kisses Keith again, and god, this man is careful with him. Keith fails to understand why, why Shiro would bother. 

“You can be rough with me”, Keith whispers, when they part again, but Shiro shakes his head. 

“We both need to be gentle, sometimes.” 

That’s what brings tears to Keith’s eyes. Whatever was holding his emotions back until now is gone with a puff, letting more and more of those tears escape Keith’s eyes. Shiro wipes on carefully with his finger. 

“I… I’m sorry”, Keith whimpers, when Shiro moves off of him, going to the other side of the room to get a napkin. 

“Don’t be”, Shiro answers, giving Keith a napkin. Keith’s ears droop as he wipes his cheeks, even when more tears fall. His hands shake. “This is long overdue by now. You need to let that stress go, Keith.” 

“I guess I was always told not to.” 

Shiro’s eyebrows raise. “What?” 

Keith sighs. “I was raised by Kolivan, the leader of The Blade of Marmora. To him, emotions are in the way, most of the time. He values common sense over emotions in his agents. It was a problem, for me. I was always so… passionate about everything. Kolivan did his best to fix me, but… I’m just not good enough.” 

Shiro gasps, like personally offended. “There’s nothing wrong with feeling, Keith. Feelings are what make us all… well, us.”

“But-”, Keith sniffles: “Not thinking is what got me into this mess. If I had thought about my mission, not screwed up, not underestimated my enemies, I would be home. Kolivan could be proud of me, for once.” 

“Keith”, Shiro starts, turning Keith’s face so he can look the half-galra in his eyes. “I don’t know your situation well, I admit, but from what I’ve gathered I think Kolivan, right now, is very proud of you.” 

Keith grunts. 

“No, listen. Yeah, sure, you got caught, but you didn’t let up during your capture. You didn’t give any info, judging by how those Blades treated you back on Qus. You also didn’t die and managed to escape flawlessly. Now you’re on your way to pick up a Lion of Voltron. Imagine that.” 

“He could’ve done all of those without getting me captured.” 

“You also gained freaky shapeshifting abilities.” 

“I am mentally bonded to a space witch.” 

“A bond you’re able to neglect!” 

Keith sighs deeply. “I won’t be able to change your mind, will I?” 

“Nope!” Shiro cheerfully shouts, pulling Keith into a hug, making the other fall on top this time. Keith presses his face against Shiro’s chest, laughing silently against it. 

“I also won’t be able to convince you to stay on Earth, either, will I?” Keith asks, craning his neck to look up at Shiro. 

Shiro huffs, Keith rising with his chest. 

“I’m a probably presumed dead deep-space pilot, who will arrive in an alien ship with a prosthetic made of Alien tech that is also able to slice through pretty much anything. The Garrison would firstly lock me up, remove my arm and run a gazillion tests through me. Then they would go through the trouble of trying to find you, while interrogating me on what happened. I will become a lab rat, pretty much, and the Garrison will probably declare the war as ‘not their problem’ and keep quiet about it ‘till the galra show up or not.”

“So not an option”, Keith grimaces.

“You’re stuck with me, darling”, Shiro adds. 

Keith’s heart is, by now, a professional gymnast and he’s pretty sure even Shiro can hear it, yet luckily the other man luckily says nothing, so for a moment the two cuddle in silence, Keith enjoying the comfort that is Shiro, even as his legs tangle off the end of the couch to fit both of them like this. 

-

It’s much later when Shiro’s face hovers over Keith’s again. Keith is tired, but he wants this, wants to feel that gentleness again. He has, within the span of a few hours, become addicted to how soft Shiro is when it’s just them, with minimal space between them.

Even now, as Shiro ghosts his lips over Keith’s chest, everything is soft, like a puffy cloud. Something, in the back of Keith’s mind, is screaming, but he drowns it out, focusing on how soft and careful Shiro is, looking up at him every once a while, making sure Keith’s okay. 

And Keith doesn’t know when someone cared about him enough to do so with that much love in their eyes. 

This time the thought doesn’t bring tears to Keith’s eyes. He has, a long time ago, realized what his place in this Universe is. The only thing that has broken the code so far has been Shiro, but Keith has realized by now how extraordinary Shiro, as a whole, is. 

Shiro’s hand ghosts down, farther than before, and Keith jolts, cursing his own reaction as Shiro immediately stops. 

“Shiro”, Keith whispers, eyes half-lidded.

“No”, the man gently whispers. “You’re clearly uncomfortable with this, even when you tell yourself you’re not. We’ll do this, when and if you’re ready. No sooner.”

Keith forces his eyes open properly so he can make out Shiro’s concerned expression in the darkness. 

“I don’t know what happened to you before the Arena but it’s no better than what the Arena was.” 

The pure concern in Shiro now is what tips Keith over again and a tear falls. Shiro immediately reacts, pulling Keith into a tight hug. 

“I don’t know why I’m crying”, Keith whispers, his tears falling, even when the rest of his body doesn’t react, not even his ears. 

“It’s okay. You’ve been through some shit”, Shiro answers, making Keith chuckle, the sound broken.

“Someday I’ll tell you”, Keith whispers, letting Shiro pull the covers over them. “Someday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading through the first third/half of Twists of fate! I could not have done it without your support, and every kudos, comment and bookmark warmed my heart. 
> 
> This series will be on a break, for an approximate of a few months (?) but I promise I will be back before Christmas, depending on how long it takes for me to plan the next part of this. 
> 
> I will post some short stories about the galran goddesses, or more accurately, prophets, and perhaps something else, depending on the amount of time I have. Drop a subscription on the series, if you haven't yet! 
> 
> See you next time!  
> -Katy

**Author's Note:**

> If someone tries to tell me murdering an entire shipful of galra is not something Keith is capable of, I will laugh. 
> 
> I'm sorry.


End file.
